Superheroes don't (always) wear capes
by My name's AC
Summary: This is us: agents with an espionage and law-enforcement agency, married, with 6 adopted kids, two guns in the safe, sensitive information in the desk, 968,562 toys throughout the house, a dishwasher waiting to be emptied, a washing machine waiting to be filled and there's always something lost somewhere in the house. (AU fic. Philinda and other characters - I ACCEPT PROMPTS)
1. Morning routines

**This idea… well, I don't know how it happened, but here it is. I only have to clarify that Trip, Hunter, Ward, Fitzsimmons and Skye are children in this story, but nothing happened to them; it's an AU where Coulson and May adopted them when they were little kids.**

**Useful information on the kids' ages: Trip is 13, Hunter is 10, Ward is 9, Simmons is 8, Fitz is 7 and Skye is 5.**

**Huge thanks to beta reader Caitlin51.**

* * *

><p>May's eyes opened as the sun's rays hit her in the face. She exhaled deeply and shifted in bed, watching her husband, who was still sleeping quietly. His chest rose and dropped smoothly. Coulson was lying down face up, one arm resting over his forehead, the other one lying over his stomach, when the alarm clock rang. May smiled lightly, seeing how his face crumpled up in a frown. Like a little kid, he rubbed his eyes as he groaned, and it was up to her to lean over his body and shut off the alarm clock.<p>

He looked up at her and gave her a sleepy smile. "Morning," he greeted her with a husky voice.

"Morning," she replied, pecking his lips and sitting up in bed. "I'm getting the kids ready, you take care of breakfast."

May got up out of bed immediately; Coulson rolled over and whined quietly, pulling the covers over his head.

Entering the boys' bedroom was the same as entering a battlefield: don't touch anything and look where you're stepping. It was possible to divide the bedroom into four distinct areas, because each one of the boys had a different personalities and interests.

Grant slept on the bed by the corner, near the window. He used it to his advantage, to have his personal display of cars, planes and soldiers lining up on the window sill. May _wondered_ from whom he may have discovered that love for collectibles.

Leo had his own corner as well where he had nothing more than his bed and his crazy experiments hidden under it. And he also had books, tons of them, especially science and mathematics books. He was only seven; he wasn't expected to be such a good reader as he was.

The oldest one, Trip, had the tidiest part of the bedroom. There were two shelves packed with books of all genres that he had read and reread again and again. On the wall in front of his bed was a spot of peeled off paint, a result of him throwing a baseball over and over again at the wall.

Although Lance had his part of the bedroom, his stuff was scattered _everywhere_. His dirty clothes piled up over his bed (or under it) and floor, his soccer ball and his soccer shoes were somewhere around that bedroom (with a bit of luck, he could locate them). The only thing that was exclusive on his side of the bedroom were his many video games, stacked on a shelf put over his bed.

May walked in, stepping over ten different Lego pieces and three tiny toy soldiers that were on the floor. She silently groaned as she stepped on some stray Legos, feeling the toys almost drilling a hole into her bare feet. She took a moment to look at the sleeping boys. Trip was completely sprawled out in bed, one arm thrown one way, a leg to the other, Grant was on the edge of the bed, back turned to the window, and Lance (surprise, surprise!) wasn't in bed. Walking to the window, May opened the curtains, listening to two different whines, Trip's and Grant's. Leo didn't make a sound because he slept completely under the covers, so the sunlight didn't bother him at all.

"I'm going to wake up your sisters. You better have your butts out of your beds when I come back here."

May used the same treatment with the girls, opening the curtains, to let the sunlight into the bedroom. Jemma, as always, woke up in a good mood, stretching her body and smiling up at her mother.

"Morning, Mom."

"Morning," May couldn't help but to smile back at her. "Start getting ready, Jemma."

Skye, unlike her sister, rolled over in bed, burying her head in her pillow and sticking her butt up. May tried to pull the sheets back but Skye clung to them strongly. It was a battle of stubbornness from both sides until May won and got the five-year-old out of bed. Getting the girl dressed was another battle that May also won. While Skye was getting dressed, Jemma tapped on the hamster's glass case, torturing him in the early morning for the purpose of science. Most of the time the animal starved because of the girl's negligence and it would already be dead if it wasn't for her father feeding the poor thing.

As May was about to leave the bedroom, she saw a cup on the desk. Picking it up she realized that she had come across the source of intense smell that had been lingering on the room.

"Do I want to know what's in this cup?"

Jemma looked at her mother and answered promptly, "It's an experiment. I'm still waiting for you and Dad to give me a microscope so I can look at it."

May frowned, "This is muddy water. You're going to throw it away."

The girl pouted but ended up nodding her head, grabbing the cup to dispose of its contents down the toilet. May made a mental note to talk to Coulson about getting Jemma a toy microscope. It'd make her happy for sure. The woman left the girl's room and made the way downstairs, dodging toys left on pretty much every step of the staircase, and found Lance sitting on the couch.

"Lance," she called, "go get ready."

He didn't answer. May wasn't exactly sure if he had heard her and pretended he didn't, or if he hadn't really heard her at all, being entirely focused on the video game.

"Don't make me call your name one more time, Lance," May warned.

He remained still, holding the video game controller in his hands, pushing the buttons quickly. His eyes were wide, bloodshot, lips parted and drool dripped from the corner of his mouth down to his lap. He had been playing video games all night; as soon as he sensed everyone in the house was sleeping he escaped his bed and played a soundless game all night.

Suddenly the TV screen turned black and his head snapped from side to side as some sort of snore sound left his mouth.

May stood there, gazing him sternly, holding the remote control.

"I was two levels away to-"

He couldn't finish his sentence. He was fished out of the couch by his mother, who removed the video game controller from his hands and grabbed his wrist, and put him on his feet, on the way to his bedroom.

"Your father will decide for how long you'll be deprived of video games."

Lance tried to fight against her decision, but his mother's firm finger pointing him upstairs made him shush and march to the upper floor. As all the kids were out of bed and getting dressed, May decided to go and dress up as well. Coulson, in the kitchen, was desperate.

He opened the cabinets and realized they were short on bowls, as they were all still in the unemptied dishwasher. Once he fetched two of them, he faced another problem: they were running out of cereals. The choice was between Cheerios and Froot Loops, which he wasn't going to give to the kids, especially Skye and Leo. It gave them a sugar rush starting from the early morning, which wasn't at all wanted. So, it had to be Cheerios for everyone. They'd grumble a bit, but it'd wear off.

Coulson placed the cereal and milk filled bowls before Skye's, Leo's and Jemma's seats, and then got the three older boys a glass of juice and bread slices with butter or jam. One by one they started taking their seats and eating breakfast silently. But Coulson's work wasn't done yet. He still had to prepare coffee for himself and tea for May, and if time would allow, he'd start emptying the dishwasher. But there was no time for that. May rushed into the kitchen and Coulson realized they were tight on time.

May took a mug and leaned on the kitchen counter, taking sips of the tea, watching the kids having breakfast. Coulson left the kitchen, climbing upstairs in quick strides, avoiding toys left and right. He had to make it through showering, dressing, and making seven beds before it was time to leave. And obviously he still had to have his morning coffee, or else his day wouldn't start with the right energy. Upon entering the laundry room to drop his used towel, he saw the Everest-like pile of clothes heaping up on the laundry basket. He grimaced and pictured a ton of work for him and May to do after their return home. There were a lot of things that could use some tidying.

He returned to the kitchen in quick steps and grabbed his coffee mug. Chaos ruled the kitchen where once silence had reigned; the kids seemed more awake and talkative now. As they finished breakfast, one by one, they left their empty dishes in the sink and walked to brush their teeth, pee and get their jackets and schoolbags. Needless to say that one existing bathroom in the house and seven children wasn't an ideal scenario, especially at such early morning hours. They waited by the door, and every day was the same grumbling. As the years went on, May and Coulson's ears turned deaf to their morning whines.

"Happy tenth anniversary," he kissed her tenderly. "and to easier mornings."

May smiled, "And to ten more years to come." She clicked their coffee mugs and replied with a smirk, "In ten years our oldest will be 23 and our youngest 15. Things will be easier then."

That remark left the two slightly saddened.

"We still have a long road ahead of us though," May tugged his tie and pulled him into a kiss.

"We're ready!" Six voices chanted from the front door.

May and Coulson smiled and left their mugs in the sink, walking to meet their six children with schoolbags on their backs, lined up by the front door. The two adults got their guns and badges, some documents they'd need for the day, car keys and coats, and quickly eight people were making their way out the door.

It was hard to be them, but they wouldn't trade it for anything in the world.

* * *

><p><strong>Reviews are always appreciated. ^_^ Have a good 2015!<strong>


	2. Pressure points

**So, this fanfiction was only meant to be an one-shot, but I guess people didn't get that idea or read the summary correctly. Therefore, I started getting ideas and decided to make this a multi-chapter story. I hope you enjoy this new chapter. I'm open to prompts, so if you have any idea, you can leave them in a review or PM me anytime and I'll do my best to write your suggestions.**

* * *

><p>"Do it!" Lance incentivized, excited, "C'mon, Jem, do it."<p>

"I can't," she bawled, wiping her tears away with the sleeve of her sweater. "I can't do it, Lance."

"Oh, come on, Jemma," Grant whined, "you made me get a frog from school. The least you can do is actually doing what you wanted to do with it."

"I won't hurt the poor little frog," she replied, crying harder.

"Knock it off, whiny baby," Lance grumbled, "just cut it."

Jemma continued to protest, crying and crying. Trip was trying not to listen to those three in the kitchen, focusing on getting the roller chain of his bicycle back on the sprocket, until Skye showed up on the porch again, concerned.

"They gonna do somet'ing bad, Trip," the girl said, hurriedly, "Do somet'ing. Jemma's crying."

The teenager got up and walked to the kitchen. Grant, Jemma and Lance were around the kitchen table, the girl holding a butter knife over an unconscious frog laid over the table. Jemma was crying, Grant seemed clueless and Lance was mostly grumbling about his crying sister. Trip left out the front door, walking to the neighbor's house. As the oldest he was in charge of keeping an eye on his siblings while Mom and Dad were at work. He had lots of help though: Mary Elizabeth "Mimi" Stanley, the middle-aged woman from next door. She was the person the kids should go to if anything happened when they were alone at home.

"Mimi?" Trip called as he knocked on the door.

The redheaded woman opened the door, "Antoine," She offered a smile, "is everything alright?"

"Jemma's crying and there's an apparently dead frog over our kitchen table. Can you come help us?"

The woman quietly chuckled and walked out to the porch, "Of course. Let's see what's going on."

* * *

><p><em>Half an hour<em> _earlier_

All the kids were home from school. Lance and Grant did their homework in the kitchen, or actually, Lance pretended to do homework until Grant helped him, Trip was in the backyard, trying to fix his bicycle, Skye sat on the porch step, watching him and complaining about being bored. Leo and Jemma were in the living room, he was reading, she was munching on a slice of apple pie. The boy was sprawled on the couch, hanging upside down, his legs resting over the back of the couch.

"You know what I'm going to do today, Leo?" Jemma spoke, trying to get her brother's attention.

"'nother experiment?" He asked, not tearing his eyes from his book.

"Uh-huh," she hummed along with a nod. "Grant said he'd get me a frog from his biology class so I can dissect it."

Jemma walked to her bedroom, the phrase 'I'm going to do homework' hovering in the air as she walked away. Leopold frowned and leaned the book against the bridge of his nose, staring at the ceiling. He adjusted on the couch, sitting up as he thought, intrigued. Making the way to his own room, Leo fetched the dictionary from Trip's shelf and looked for the word 'dissect'. He sat on the edge of Lance's bed and placed the book over his lap.

With his index he followed the words as he read, "Dissect, verb, to cut apart to examine the structure, relation of parts, or the like; to examine minutely part by part, analyze."

He gasped and his eyes widened. Tossing the dictionary over the bed, he ran across the house to look for his older brother.

"Trip!" He shouted once he found him in the garden, "Trip, Trip, Trip!" The boy called again, hoping.

"Take a breath, Leo. What's the matter?" Trip asked, wiping off the oil of his hands onto his jeans (May _loved_ to see those stains later on…).

"It's Jemma. She's gonna _dissectate_ a frog."

"Dissect you mean," The older boy supplied the right word. He placed his hand over his brother's head and ruffled his hair, "Jemma loves to do experiments. She'll be ok, Leo."

He was sure Jemma would be fine; he wasn't so sure about the frog. Leo returned to his seat at the couch and made sure to ignore all the fuss that followed after.

* * *

><p>"That's a big, ugly and slick-y frog," Jemma commented, looking at the jar that contained the frog.<p>

"Well," Grant began, "my class doesn't get small, pretty and clean frogs. Here," he gave her a cotton ball, which he also brought from school, "put it in the jar. It's has chloroform and should put it to sleep."

"What're you gonna do with the frog, Jem?" Lance asked, raising his head from the book he was reading.

"Dissect him. Mr. Winter says we won't get to dissect frogs 'til fifth grade but I want to now."

"You can always wait."

"Too much of a wait," she replied, opening the lid of the jar.

"You're in third grade," Lance answered back, "only two more years and you get to dissect frogs." His attention turned to his sister as he saw her going to the cutlery drawer and bringing a butter knife. "You gonna cut it open? Cool. I wanna see that."

"That's what dissect means, Lance." The girl chirped, "You should study more."

Lance stuck his tongue out in response to Jemma's advice. As soon as the girl pulled the frog out of the jar and laid it down over the table, she couldn't bring herself to cut it open. Jemma began pouting and tears pooled in her eyes.

"Do it!" Lance incentivized, excited, "C'mon, Jem, do it."

"I can't," she bawled, wiping her tears away with the sleeve of her sweater. "I can't do it, Lance."

"Oh, come on, Jemma," Grant whined, "you made me get a frog from school. The least you can do is actually doing what you wanted to do with it."

"I won't hurt the poor little frog," she replied, crying harder.

"Knock it off, whiny baby," Lance grumbled, "just cut it."

Jemma continued to protest, crying and crying. "If you won't do it, I will." He said, trying to get the knife from her hand.

When Mimi and Trip walked in the kitchen, Skye following after them, they saw Jemma crying, Lance and Grant fighting over the knife and the frog on the table. The woman immediately removed the knife from their hands and after putting it away, she turned her attention to Jemma. Trip placed his hands on the back of his brothers' necks and guided them to the living room, putting each of them in a corner. Lance immediately slid down the wall, and sat on the floor, crossing his left foot over the other ankle.

"I'm sorry guys, but you two are on time-out. You know you shouldn't play with knives."

"It was Lance's fault," Grant accused, tears brimming in his eyes. "He took the knife from Jemma and I tried to take it from him."

The other crossed his arms and said nothing in his defense, his frown creasing even more.

"It's good that you've apologized but you still have to be on time-out. Knives aren't toys. And you," Trip pointed his finger at Lance, "you'll think of what you've done and then you'll apologize to Jemma for being rude to her."

As Trip was about to leave, to meet Mimi and Jemma in the kitchen, Leo said with a small daring voice, "I warned you."

The older boy exhaled and rolled his eyes, continuing to walk to the kitchen. Jemma was calmer and quietly walked to her bedroom. Trip accompanied Mimi to the door.

"Thanks, Mimi." He spoke wholeheartedly, "You're a great help."

"It's alright, sweetie. I'm always happy to help with whatever you need. Your parents trusted you with the task of keeping an eye on the little ones and I can't imagine how hard it must be on you to hold things together. You're very mature for your age, Antoine."

"Thank you," he said shyly after receiving the compliment.

Trip was about to return to his bicycle, knowing for sure that after that nothing else that troubling could happen when Skye showed up in front of him.

"C'n I ride your bike?"

"No."

"Why?" She insisted, following him to the backyard.

"Because you need a smaller bicycle, with training wheels."

"I can reach the pedals on yours. Let me ride it, please." Skye begged.

"No," Trip repeated.

"Why not?"

"Because it's my bike and last time you picked it up, you broke it."

"I didn't break it. It fell-"

He didn't let her finish, "It fell because you tried to ride it and knocked it down on the ground instead."

"If you don't let me ride your bike I'll tell Mom and Dad 'bout the frog."

At that Trip turned around; Skye had a mischievous grin spreading across her face, she knew she had won. Trip picked her up in his arms and sat her over the saddle of his bike, keeping one hand on the handlebar grip and the other on the back of the saddle, pushing her around.

* * *

><p>May and Coulson found it strange how silent and still the kids were, but they didn't felt like disrupting the rare peace that the kids offered. May walked to the kitchen to prepare dinner and after loosening his tie knot and rolling up the shirt's sleeves, Coulson dedicated himself to folding clothes in the living room.<p>

"How was your day, kids?" Coulson asked later at dinner, taking a forkful of rice to his mouth.

"Good," they all quietly mumbled, discreetly looking between each other.

"Trip wouldn't let me ride the bike." Skye said and Trip rose his head, hoping she'd stick to her promise and not say anything about that afternoon's incident.

"The bicycle is too big for you." May pointed out, "You can ride the tricycle-"

"I'm not a baby," she grumbled, "I won't ride the t'icycle."

May and Coulson looked at each other, the same thought going through their heads. Skye actually had grown too old to ride the tricycle. Coulson and May adopted her when she was three and bought it for her then, but soon she lost interest in it, so it barely had use. Besides, the younger kids did need a smaller bicycle to ride, since there was only one in the house and it belonged to Trip, Grant and Lance, the only ones tall enough to ride it. Maybe Santa Claus would come around a little earlier that year.

As they were doing the dishes, Coulson commented, "You know, the Thompson's youngest kid's birthday is coming up and they always invite our kids to the birthday party."

The Thompson's were their neighbors from a few houses down who had three kids, one of them a toddler whose birthday was coming up.

May added, "And we never know what to buy their kids."

"Exactly. The tricycle is almost brand new and I think I still have the box in the basement. We can put the tricycle in the box, wrap it and offer it to the kid. I'm sure he'll love it."

"And we'd certainly become even more their favorite neighbors," May added, "and in case you've forgotten, I can't stand that woman -"

"I know you don't like her that much, but they're good people," May looked at him, "- deep down - and they can be useful to us one day, so it's good if we're friends with them."

"When will we need them? When we need to know where to get the cheapest Botox filling or where to buy the best brand of suits?"

Coulson chuckled, "Yeah, they're a bit snobby, but their kids aren't and deserve to be happy. Just think of them."

"Poor things."

"I know," Coulson agreed, putting the clean plates in the cupboard, "let's hope they won't grow up to be assholes."

"Might be a little too late for that already. You know what the Jenkins' wife calls them? Birth control for this entire neighborhood."

"Did you - did you hear that?" Coulson asked, turning his head from the sound was coming from. "Is that a croak?" He frowned as he turned to May, "We have a frog at home?"

"Wouldn't be surprising," She replied with a sigh, tossing the dish cloth over the counter, following after the sound with Coulson.

Apparently none of the kids ever remembered that the frog had only been put to sleep with chloroform, so they never bothered to look for it, or were even aware of its presence in the house. Upon hearing the croaking sounds, the kids also got up and subtly started looking for the frog. Coulson and May saw one of her shoes hopping away, and once the kids tried to deviate their attention and lied to them about the frog's presence, the idea of buying a new bicycle was put on hold. The frog hopped out of the shoe and it was caught by the woman. Coulson and Mary took it to the living room, telling all the kids to sit at the couch and explain as to why they had found a frog in a shoe. The kids went to bed late but the story behind the frog was solved.

* * *

><p><strong>A little review would be nice. And don't forget, if you have ideas, let me know. I'll be happy to hear and write them.<strong>


	3. Team of choice

**Here is one new chapter, this one more focused on Lance, with flashbacks of his adoption.**

**Next chapter will be about the kids reacting to Coulson being hurt on the job (requested by an anon). And to clear things about Coulson and May's jobs: both are SHIELD agents; May works in administration, Coulson works a tactical agent (prepares missions, and takes part in some of them)**

* * *

><p>Lance was overly excited for the whole week as soon as he found out from his football's coach that a talent scout would be watching his team's match that would be over the weekend. Apparently he was looking to recruit one or two kids from several local teams to get them to play at state level. Being a footballer was something Lance had always wanted to be since he had learned to kick a ball, almost since had learned to stand up and walk.<p>

* * *

><p><em>London, UK<em>

_The boy looked like a modern version of Oliver Twist, as hungry, poor and lonely as the character from the book. He was playing soccer all alone in a vacant lot. His sneakers had holes, the shorts he wore were dangling off his skinny hips as he ran back and forth, kicking up dust, and his white T-shirt was marred by dust. With skinned knees and sweat dripping down his flushed face, he kicked the ball over and over again at his improvised goal; two empty cans placed on the ground working as the goalposts._

_"Bloody hell," he mumbled slightly louder as he kicked the ball and knocked down a can._

_"Looks like your target is the cans and not the goal."_

_Lance snapped his head to where the voice sounded. Coulson and May approached him._

_"What's your name, kid?" Coulson asked._

_"First name, 'none of your', last name 'damn business'," Lance replied, picking up the fallen can._

_"Oh, that's a nice name," the man played along with him. "And where do you live? Somewhere as interesting as your name, I'm guessing."_

_"Yup," the kid continued, non-interested, "I live on 'why do you care?' street." After he put the can on an upright position again, he resumed playing football on his own, "What are you doing here, exactly?"_

_"I'd like you to tell me about that wallet you have in your pocket," May spoke, pointing at Lance's pocket, "Where you got it and all that."_

_May and Coulson weren't so worried that the wallet had been pickpocketed. They were intrigued and impressed, actually. The kid had skills, and with a little help maybe they could help him choose a right path for his life instead of becoming a pickpocket and God know what else. Besides, he was one cheeky yet adorable kid. He had the heart the size of the world and yet he always chose not to show it._

_Coulson smirked, "I'm sure if you look at the photo of the driver's license you'll find that the man on the photo strangely resembles me."_

_"You've followed me all the way here," Lance concluded._

_"Yes. And we've come to an interesting conclusion - you are an orphan. Now, what I can't get is that you stole my wallet and yet still haven't spent a single coin of my money. I wonder why."_

_"I'm saving it for when I'm hungry."_

_"Oh, I see," Coulson said with a nod. "Do you think you can at least give me back my documents?"_

* * *

><p>"Sit down," Grant asked as he rested back on the couch and rubbed his forehead, "you're making me dizzy."<p>

"It's a big game for me. I can go to play state level. I can't sit down." Lance replied, walking from side to side in the living room. "Mom, Dad!" he shouted, looking upstairs, "What's taking you so long? We have to go or we'll be late."

"There's still one hour to go 'til the game," Coulson affirmed, coming down the stairs, "relax, buddy."

Lance exhaled deeply and adjusted the strap of the sports' bag in the shoulder. "Do you think I'm gonna do well?"

"Lance," His father placed his hand over the boy's shoulders and look into his eyes, "you are the best player in the team. And I'm not just saying this because I'm your father."

"Ugh, it's not like you have much experience with football to make a comparison."

"Mel, hurry up please," Coulson called, "Lance's very restless."

"He'll drive us all insane before we make it to the game," Trip sighed, flipping through the channels.

* * *

><p>The family sat on the bleachers and Lance walked to the small locker room to get changed into his equipment. The rows of benches started getting occupied slowly, and once the game was about to begin, the bleachers were packed with people, mostly families of the kids. Obviously Coulson and May were rooting for Lance, but they were hoping he hadn't set his hopes too high. He was a marvelous player, that much was true, but the coach's son, Tyler, also played in the team, so they were expecting some sort of cheating move from the coach to get his son chosen by the talent scout. Lance scored two goals before half-time and his team was comfortably winning by a margin of three goals. The coach seemed upset at his own son for not being able to keep up with Lance's performance and murmured things at him on the way to the locker room.<p>

At the beginning of the second half, things got complicated. There was a massive mess in the penalty area and Lance was stopped for a foul. The referee called out a penalty kick favoring Lance's team but he was still lying down on the field, holding his right ankle. The play was put on hold and the referee was crossing the pitch to meet him. Tyler was by Lance's side, a guilty expression spreading across his face.

"Get your ass moving, Lance," Coach Oaks shouted. "You'll get a yellow card if you keep pretending."

But he didn't move; he wasn't pretending at all. May stood up to get a clearer look and Coulson unintentionally held her wrist, on an attempt to get her to sit down again. He thought she was upset about the couch yelling at their son, but she was looking at the boy with hawk eyes and without a warning she ran into the field.

"What are you doing?" Oaks yelled at May, "he's alright. He better get up now and stop faking."

"He's not faking," May responded. By this time Coulson was also standing and unconsciously making his way down to the pitch as well.

"How do you know?"

"Because I'm his mother," she spat angrily and ducked next to Lance, "let me see it."

Lance was sobbing, tears rushing down his face. He never cried, so it was serious. Slowly May removed his soccer shoe, as the boy whimpered, and she saw his ankle swelling and the unusual shape that the bone presented indicated the injury was a bad one. When he was asked if he could move his foot, he tried to do so and bawled.

"He sprained his ankle," May concluded, looking up at her husband.

As Coulson carried the boy in his arms, May beckoned to the other children and they all headed to the hospital. The results were worse than expected for striker Lance: a broken ankle; he'd have to keep a plaster cast for six to eight weeks and would have to befriend crutches in the meantime. Lance didn't feel pain, as he was under the effect of painkillers, but once they got home he was so devastated that he cried himself to sleep. The next day he didn't want to go to school, and Coulson and May exceptionally unsurprisingly let it pass once. May then worked from home the following day, so she could stay with Lance.

* * *

><p><em>"Come on kid," Coulson insisted, "I'll let you keep the money, just give me my documents, please. We'll even take you to eat something if you want."<em>

_"I can't give you the documents," Lance said, looking down._

_May understood the situation in a second flat, "What's his name?"_

_The boy looked up at May and whispered, scared, "Marcus. He lets me keep the money of the wallets, but I have to give him the IDs."_

_"He fakes them, right?" The woman got a nod as an answer. "What does he to you if you don't do what he asks?"_

_Lance shrugged. He had been punched and slapped quite a few times, in the beginning, when he didn't fulfill the agreement. Coulson crossed the distance between them and placed his hands on the boy's shoulders._

_"Forget about Marcus. He won't hurt you anymore, alright?"_

_"You can't promise that."_

_"We can. All you have to do is trust us. Now," Coulson breathed deeply and tried to switch the tone of the conversation, "Melinda and I are starving. Do you know where we can have some food?"_

_Lance was still downcast and simply pointed in the general direction of the road that lead to the populated area._

_"Join us for dinner. I'm paying," He reached the boy's pocket and fetched his wallet, "with my money."_

_The three entered a small pub a few blocks away from the vacant lot. They all had fish and chips as a football match was on the TV. Lance was so happy to eat and watch football that he loosened up and started talking, as the sweet, funny and sarcastic boy he was. The more he talked, the more Coulson and May fell for him._

* * *

><p>When Coulson arrived from work, he was greeted by five of his children who were watching TV in the living room. He made his way to the office room, finding May there, buried in paperwork.<p>

"We've been waiting for you to have dinner," May didn't look away from the papers, she simply tilted her head, offering her cheek to receive a kiss as Coulson leaned to smooch her, "The kids are hungry - they sound like they haven't eaten in days."

"Sorry," he said with a smile, "traffic was a chaos. And I went to speak with Coach Oaks."

"What did he say?" She asked, her gaze shifting to him.

"Not much, I barely let him speak. I started talking as a civilized person, but once I learned about he had done, I couldn't help it. I said we didn't need his money but told him he'd have to pay for the hospital expenses or else we'd file charges against him."

"So you know about it too."

"That he made Tyler hurt Lance on purpose so that his kid could be chosen? Yes, he told me. And he laughed!" Coulson said louder, and angrier, remembering the moment. He leaned on the desk and looked down at her, "How do you know about it?"

May rested back on the chair, having a clear view of her husband, "Tyler came by after school. He wanted to talk with Lance, I convinced him to hear him out. The kid left in tears and Lance was as cool as always." May tossed the pen she was holding over the desk, continuing, "Do you know they even lied to the whole team? The talent scout wasn't looking for kids to play in the state team. The guy wanted to get kids to do tryouts for English teams."

"Oh no. How did Lance react to that?"

"Really well. I may have had an influence on his behavior: the talk we had actually worked." May smiled, "Apparently the Oaks family will be moving to London soon. Lance shook Tyler's hand and wished him good luck." As she secretly listened to the whole conversation between Lance and Tyler, she knew what she was talking about, "And he told him if he hadn't lied to him they could still be friend and he wouldn't have needed to break his ankle. He said, and I quote, I play football for fun, and I'd never leave my family for any team. They chose me for be part of their family and I'd never leave them. They're my team."

Like May, Coulson felt his heart nearly imploding. Lance could be a sweet kid, he just never showed it.

"He's in his bed?"

May firstly nodded and then added, "His teacher emailed me what his class learned today, along with the homework, so he was in his bedroom studying almost all afternoon."

Coulson met the boy tucked in his bed; the crutches were on the floor next to him. "Hey there, kid. How's your ankle?"

"Better. Mom kept putting ice on it and gave me tablets for the pain."

He sat on the edge of the bed and suggested, "Football might be the last thing you want to think of right now, but what do you say, going to that Brit pub downtown? Just you and me. We'd eat there and watch a Premiere League match."

Lance smiled, "I'm up for it. As long as you don't comment on the football game until you learn about it."

"You have to teach me about it." The man chuckled and clapped the boy's leg, "Put your shoes on and get your jacket. I'll tell your mother the two of us are eating out."

* * *

><p><em>Coulson and May walked Lance to the orphanage later on that day. One of the employers was surprised upon learning that they wanted to adopt Lance. No one ever wanted to adopt him before. Once a couple would meet him at the orphanage they'd immediately give up on the idea of taking him home. He was a healthy and good-looking boy, but he was cheeky, a slacker and a joker, being somewhat defiant sometimes.<em>

_May finally spoke, "The woman asked us why we are giving ourselves the trouble of wanting to adopt you. She said you the worst kid that there is in this orphanage."_

_"Then why are you thinking about it?" Lance questioned, looking away as tears brimmed his eyes, "I've been an orphan since I was born, I was abandoned here. I'm eight now, I've hit that age. No one will ever want to adopt me from now on. Why are you giving yourselves the trouble? I don't care if I live here 'til I die."_

_"Because you are worth it, Lance," Coulson said. "We want to take you to our home in the States. You'll have five other siblings, all just like you, adopted. There's Skye, Leo, Jemma, Grant and Trip. You're going to love them, and they'll love you back."_

_"What about you two?" He questioned looking between the two of them, "I'm a person, not a dog. You can't choose to adopt me and then-"_

_"We're picking you for our team," May said, a small smile gracing her face features. "Aren't you so into football? Then see it like that. We want you in our team."_

* * *

><p><strong>You'll get to learn about all of the kids' adoption background and the reasons as to why May and Coulson adopted them. And, for your understanding, this is the order and age of adoption for all of them:<strong>

**1. Jemma (1)**

**2. Trip (7)**

**3. Grant (6)**

**4. Leo (5) and Skye (3)**

**5. Lance (8)**


	4. Burned

**A prompt requested by an anonymous reviewer: the kids reacting to Coulson being hurt.**

* * *

><p>May couldn't fall asleep. Coulson had been out on a mission for the past week, and was supposed to arrive home that night. She already knew he was hurt; he had called her hours before, saying he was alright and that he'd arrive home that day. But he didn't tell her what had happened. May kept making up excuses to avoid their kid's questions, but Trip was the one she was most worried about. He was the only one who knew they were spies, so kept on asking her if his father was alright. Luckily, she was able to put all the kids to sleep without having to say anything else. And luckily Coulson should arrive soon.<p>

She heard his steps as he tried his best to quietly walk around the house. As she got up, Coulson walked to the bathroom and dropped his bag on the floor, sitting on the edge of the bathtub.

"How did the mission go?" she asked softly, walking into the bathroom.

He struggled and groaned as he loosened the tie knot, "Bad. Really bad. Lost two agents and fifteen civilians."

"I'm sorry to hear it."

"There was nothing I could do about it. You'll read about it on the report soon."

"Where are you hurt?"

Coulson didn't answer her, as he battled against his shirt between groans, trying to strip it off. She helped him and saw a big red mark coming from his left shoulder down to the middle of the arm, spreading across his back and the left part of his chest.

"What the doctor say about that?" she asked as she washed her hands before treating his injury.

"Second degree burn. Not too concerning though. Two or three weeks and it should heal."

He wheezed as his wife carefully washed the burnt area with cold water and soap. She frowned with pity every time he whimpered, but she had to do it.

"Go to bed," she ordered, "I'll be right there."

May looked around for a towel and then went to fetch a small bowl from the kitchen that she filled with cool water. When she got to the bedroom, Coulson was lying on his right side, blowing on his wound.

"Don't blow on it," May grumbled as she placed the bowl and the towel over the bedside table, "You'll infect it."

Coulson whined quietly and laid his head back on the pillow. May kept applying the damp towel to his burnt area. He sighed, relieved, every time he felt the coolness spreading across the burnt skin. She spend half an hour doing it, her back beginning to hurt from leaning over him, but it was worth it as Coulson was almost asleep.

"I'll get some ointment," May spoke quietly.

"'t's 'kay," he mumbled, almost asleep, "'m 'etter now."

She got up anyways and when she returned to the bedroom he was already sleeping. After rubbing the ointment on his skin, she loosely covered the burnt area with a bandage and patches and watched him sleep for a while. He seemed much more relieved now. May pulled the bed sheets up to his hip and laid down in bed, going to sleep as well.

* * *

><p>"Where's Dad?" Skye asked, munching a mouthful of Cookie Crisps.<p>

"Let this be a warning for all of you," May began, looking at all of them, and only continued talking once she got all the kids' attention, "Your father is sick, and he's staying home, so I want you not to bother him once you get home from school, alright?"

All six of them asked questions at the same time, making it impossible for May to understand any question at all, even though she had an idea of what they wanted to know.

"He hurt his arm, the left one, so please be careful with him."

They nodded their heads and didn't ask any more question, resuming eating breakfast. May had extra work that morning, having to take two trips to the school as she couldn't transport all six of them at the same time. When she returned home the second time, Coulson was already awake and out of bed.

"Need any help?" he murmured sleepily.

"I need you to stay home and do nothing, understood?" May asked, staring him down until he gave up and nodded in agreement, "I just took the boys to school, now I'm taking Leo and the girls and then I'm off to work. I've told them to be careful with your arm, and you better not scratch the burn, or blow on it. And don't put icy water on it, understand?"

Phil smiled and pressed a kiss on her forehead, "Understood, Mom. Now go or you'll be late."

Before leaving out the door, she looked back and told him, "Call me 'Mom' again and I'll burn your other arm."

"Love you too," he grinned.

* * *

><p>As he was home alone doing nothing, Coulson decided to slowly start doing the menial tasks such as washing the breakfast dishes, doing the laundry and putting away the toys that were scattered around the house before focusing on writing the mission report. He was sure May would scold him, like a little kid, but he wasn't worried. Once the kids arrived home, he helped them with school work but they were all curious to know what was hidden under his bandages.<p>

"What happened to your arm?" Trip inquired, eyes focused on the dressings.

"A burn. It'll heal soon, don't worry about it."

Jemma lifted her head and looked at her father, "Did Mom took care of it already?"

"Yes, doctor Jemma," he smiled, "Mom, and a doctor, have seen it. But I'd like to hear your diagnosis too. What will make it heal more quickly, doctor?"

The girl walked to him and kissed his cheek, "A lot of kisses and hugs."

Skye came to hug him tight and kiss him too, "Seems like a good healing process." He sat the two girls on his lap and asked, noticing that all the kids had abandoned their homework and were looking at him, "Next question?"

Leo asked, "How did it happen?"

"A wooden beam fell over me. The building was on fire, so I got burned."

As the kids frowned, wondering as to why their supposed business man Dad had been inside a burning building, Grant asked, "Did it hurt? You know, the wooden beam falling and the burn?"

"Yeah, it hurt a bit, especially the burn. My arm, chest and part of my back are very red and filled with blisters."

"Can I see it?" Lance piped up.

"Sure," Coulson put the girls down on their feet and unwrapped part of the bandage.

"It looks disgusting," the boy retorted, covering his eyes. "Thanks, Dad."

Coulson chuckled, "You were the one who wanted to see it," he told him, wrapping the bandages again. "Now that you've all asked your questions, get back to homework."

"I don't have homewo'k," Skye chirped.

"No you don't," he picked her up in his arms and walked to the kitchen, "Then what do you say about helping me with dinner? Mom deserves something really good and tasty for helping Dad last night."

* * *

><p><strong>Leave me your reviews and suggestions. I'll be happy to write them. ^_^<strong>


	5. Cheap shots

Saturday was quite a quiet day in the Coulson's house. Grant had left in the early morning to mow the lawn of a few neighbors, Trip was in charge of car washings and Lance walked dogs. They all wanted to gather up money since Father's Day was coming and they wanted to buy their father a nice present. The gift would be from all the six of them, even though the three youngest didn't take part in the money gathering. Skye was far too young to earn money doing anything, Jemma sometimes managed to get some money from tutoring other kids, but so far she had made no money, and Leo was absolutely forbidden to help ever since he tried to repair some electronics and managed to town-wide power outage.

"Phil?" May called in a husky voice, shifting in bed to find him still sleeping. She shook him, "Phil?"

"Uhm?" he hummed, eyes still closed.

"Don't you have to go to work?"

"No," Coulson finally opened his eyes and tried to swallow the bitter taste lingering in his mouth, "I'm staying home. We're going on a mission tomorrow to San Sebastian 'til the beginning of next week."

"And you were planning on telling me this when?"

"Last night. I forgot. Sorry."

It was perfectly excusable, May had to admit. Coulson had been preparing the mission the previous night, and once he arrived home he was so exhausted he made his way to bed and slept like a log.

"And you?" he asked, "Are you off duty today too?"

"I wish," she snorted, pushing the bed covers back and getting out of bed, "I have three hours of paperwork to do. And that's just the work I didn't do yesterday."

"Sounds painful."

"It is," May walked to the wardrobe and picked out clean clothes, "I'll go shower and then I'll leave the kids' breakfast prepared. You're on your own with them for the rest of the day."

"What is there to do?" he asked, sitting up in bed.

"Skye has a dentist appointment at 4, you have to take Grant to the meeting with the scouts-"

"Oh, yeah, he's camping this weekend," Coulson remembered.

"And his bag isn't prepared yet," she reminded, "Also, Trip and Lance have training today."

May had already walked out the door when Coulson starting repeating his list of tasks for his day, "Uhm, so drop off Trip at baseball and Lance at football, come home, pack Grant's bag, take him to the meeting, and then dentist with Skye. After that, pick up Trip and Lance. Shouldn't be too hard."

Trip, Lance and Grant arrived home almost at the same time, immediately going to the kitchen. May was preparing their breakfast already, Skye was sleeping was still sleeping in, and Jemma and Leo were at the table already downing their breakfast. The three boys counted the money they had gathered as they sat at the table.

"I have $10 from tutoring Jack from school," Jemma said before chewing on a spoonful of cereal.

"That's really good, Jem," Grant placed the money over the table, "That makes it $40."

"And for what is that money?" May asked, turning around.

"Dad's gift. Father's Day is next week," Leo explained.

"Uhm," the woman mumbled as she had a gulp of tea, "and what are you buying him?"

"We don't know yet. Maybe cufflinks," Trip told her. "But we don't know when to buy it either. We can't ask him to take us to a store, and if we ask you to take us, he'll suspect."

"He'll be working out of the country from tomorrow until next weekend. I can take you to a store someday this week. But for now keep the money. He's staying home today, and you don't want him finding out about the gift a week early."

Grant grabbed the money and put it in his pocket and began eating. Shortly after, Coulson entered the kitchen carrying Skye in his arms, and he sat her at her table.

"I've got it," he told May, seeing that she was going to begin preparing a meal for the younger girl.

"I'll run away, ya know?" Skye mumbled at her father.

"Why?" May asked with a frown, leaning on the kitchen counter again.

Coulson smiled a little and said, "She's already upset for having to go to the dentist."

"She should be," Grant began teasing, "he'll yank all of her teeth. They are all rotten from the candies she eats."

"Grant," May's voice was stern, and so was her gaze.

"Will he?" Skye looked up at her father, tears brimming in her eyes, "Will the dentist yank all my teeth?"

"Of course not," he stroked her hair and pressed a kiss on the top of head, "now eat."

May and Coulson left the kids eating in the kitchen, and went to gather their things, hashing out the details about their day in the meantime. Lance looked back and as his parents were out of sight, he whispered at Skye,

"He'll yank all your teeth. All of them."

Grant took Lance's side in tormenting their little sister, "And he'll use one of those big pliers and leave you toothless."

"You two are so childish," Trip replied, smacking the two in the back of their necks.

Skye's lip began to pout and she looked at Jemma, "Is it true? I'll be toothless?"

"If the teeth are rotten, then the dentist will take them. But," the girl rushed as the other began to cry quietly, "you'll have more teeth growing. You won't be toothless."

"Killjoy," Lance grumbled, looking sideways at Jemma.

"Next time you go to the doctor, Lance, he should rip off your tongue."

"Oh, wow," Trip laughed, "that was good, Jemma."

"Oh, wow, that was good, Jemma," Lance parroted in a high pitched voice, "If it was me you'd go like 'Oh, wow, Lance, you're so childish'."

"Maybe because you are," Trip replied as he got up and left his used cup in the sink.

Lance mimicked again while making faces, "Maybe because you are." Trip laced his arm around his brother's neck and slowly pulled him off from his chair and laid him down on the floor. Lance kicked up and yelled loudly, "Mom! Dad!"

Grant laughed as he ate and Trip walked out of the kitchen casually as Coulson rushed to enter.

"What are you doing on the floor, Lance?" The man asked.

"It was Trip," Lance accused in a pitched voice.

Coulson sighed loudly and helped the kid up, "You'll be the death of me."

"Wha- It wasn't me. Didn't you hear? It was Trip. Yell at him, it wasn't me." Lance grumbled, but his father had already left the kitchen.

May walked to the coat hanger and put on her leather jacket, "You'll be ok for the day?"

"No, no," Coulson whined, walking to her with quick steps, "Mel, they'll be the death of me."

"It's only a day. When you go on missions I have to endure that for over a week. You're not going to die."

"Yes, true, but they behave with you," he looked back, catching a glimpse of the kids in the kitchen, "When they are with me this house is like a Wild West movie."

"Maybe that's because you are a child around children. Show them you have to be respected. You can play with them but they need to be aware that you are their father, not their schoolmate."

"Easier said than done. Mel," he quietly pled as she walked out the door.

* * *

><p>When May returned home that evening, she was greeted with the smell of dinner being made and the kids' excited babbles. Peeking into the living room she saw all five of them lying or kneeling on the floor and hundreds pieces of a puzzle scattered all over. She walked in the kitchen and Coulson turned around, greeting her with a wide smile.<p>

"They seem calm," she affirmed, kissing his cheek. "For how long have they been around the puzzle?"

"Two or three hours," May's eyes widened, impressed. Coulson resumed his explanation, "I told them they could do anything they wanted if they'd assemble that 1000 piece puzzle."

"That's not how it works. You can't bargain with those kinds of things-"

"Ten to twenty pieces of the puzzle might be missing though," he said, showing her some puzzle pieces that he had in the pocket of his pants.

"Phil," May sighed with an eye roll.

* * *

><p><strong>Next chapter: science babies dedicated chapter! <strong>


	6. IQ - Idem Quod

**VERY IMPORTANT: There's a poll at my profile regarding this fanfiction. Go there and submit your votes. **

**So, here it is, the science babies chapter. Hope you guys like it.**

* * *

><p>"Jem, come here," Coulson called.<p>

"Yes, Dad?" she asked.

He patted the empty spot next to him on the couch and showed her a web page, "You know what Mensa is, right?"

"Uh-uhm," she hummed with a nod, "It's an organization that recognizes genius people."

"Glad you know that. Here," he pointed as he read, "You have to work out what the letters mean. See number 1 as an example. '24 H in a D' means 24 hours in a day. Got it, Jemma?"

"Yes."

"Think you can do the following ones?" he asked, getting up and placing the laptop on Jemma's lap.

"Want me to do them all?" she questioned, scrolling down the page and briefly checking the 33 enigmas.

"Do as many as you can. No pressure, alright, sweetheart? Call me when you're done."

Jemma nodded and read the additional information that the page presented and then started solving the riddles. Twenty minutes later the girl started searching for her father. He was in the backyard playing baseball with Trip.

"Daddy, I think I've finished," Jemma began. "I couldn't do them all but I've got 24 correct ones."

"24?" Coulson repeated, incredulous, taking off the baseball glove and dropping it on the grass as he walked to his daughter. "The test said more than 19 and you're considered a genius."

"I didn't cheat," the girl claimed.

"I believe you, Jemma." He guided Jemma back inside and the two walked to the living room where she had left his laptop, "Do you mind doing a different test for me?"

"Ok," she agreed, taking a seat on the couch again.

Before Coulson had time to search for another test, Leo showed up and peeked at the screen. He pointed at one of the unanswered riddles and said, "64 squares on a chess board."

"Come here, Leo," the man beckoned, pulling him closer. "Can you finish the ones Jemma didn't do?"

The boy managed to complete the answers his sister was unable to do. Coulson rubbed his eyes and sighed; he was astonished and slightly concerned.

"Ok, let's forget about these tests," he said, "why don't you go find something else to do?"

Leo and Jemma exchanged a look, shrugged and walked away. Coulson shut the laptop and searched for his wife. She was tending to Skye who was ill and confined to bed against her own will. As soon as he popped his head inside the bedroom, Skye sat up in bed.

"Let me leave my bed," she begged in a husky voice.

"Sorry, little bug. You're sick, you have to stay in bed." he replied. May looked back at him and he resumed his original task, "Can I speak with you for a second?"

May nodded and walked out of the bedroom for a moment, "What's the matter?"

"We have two geniuses in this house."

"Leo and Jemma, yes. Am I supposed to be surprised?"

He rolled his eyes, "I think we should take them to do some IQ tests. I asked Jemma to do a Mensa test; she scored 24 out of 33 answers. Leo showed up and solved the remaining 9 she couldn't answer."

Upon hearing a noise, May held up her hand telling him to wait. She opened the bedroom door and ordered, "Get in bed. Right now." Skye sighed and crawled under the bed sheets again. Once she closed the door, May turned to Coulson, "Alright, we can ask the neighbor to keep an eye on the others and we take Leo and Jemma to do a test tomorrow morning."

* * *

><p>The couple was at the waiting room of the doctor's office with their two gifted children. Coulson and May sat next to each other; he was flipping through the pages of the newspaper he had brought from home; she was simply sitting there, waiting, profoundly bothered by the annoying background music. Jemma was observing the fish tank and the fish swimming around, and Leo was focused on the painting hanging on the wall behind them.<p>

"It's weird," he said. Turning then to his mother, he asked, "What is that?"

May supplied, "Abstract art."

"It looks ugly. And stupid. I could do that too."

"Mr. Coulson, Mrs. May," the doctor showed up, "I've got the results here with me. Would you enter so we can discuss them for a while?"

The two promptly stood up and told the kids they wouldn't take long. As soon as they entered the room, the doctor pointed them to the chairs.

"So, what's the news, doctor?" Coulson asked, taking a seat.

"Leopold and Jemma are still somewhat young to draw any definitive and accurate assumptions, but I've been able to sketch some conclusions. Basing their results on the Wechsler's classification, Leopold has an IQ level of 134 and Jemma's is 145. These levels suggest that both of them fall on the 'very superior' classification. Only 2.2% of test subjects fall on this part of the spectrum."

Both May and Coulson were at a loss of words.

"Any suggestions, doctor?" May asked at last.

"You've told me that they attend public school, right?"

"Yes," Coulson confirmed, "Any problem with it?"

"Not at all," the man reassured, but added, "although they have more capabilities than an average child and deserve to be enrolled at a school that could fulfill their educational needs and expand them."

May retorted, not enjoying the doctor's tone of voice or subtle insinuations, "They are somewhat socially awkward. There's a reason why don't go to a private school. They go to public school, the same one as their siblings, and there's no harm in that. My husband and I both attended public schools and we didn't have any problems with it."

The doctor suddenly went a bit too red, "I didn't mean to imply any of that. My apologies if I did so. But," he cleared his throat, "maybe extracurricular activities could be a good call, given the fact that they don't currently do any activities outside school hours."

"Maybe because we don't want to overburden them," Coulson said calmly, "Really, my wife and I are well aware that Leo and Jemma are smarter than our other children, but there's no reason to differentiate or pressure them because of that. They never asked to be enrolled in any activity and we won't do it against their will. If they are indeed bright minds as you say, they'll do just fine later on in their lives without having the need to have an overloaded childhood or to go to a private school. More than being smart, they need to be loved and to be happy."

"I'm sorry if I offended you, but you did ask my suggestions. These are the ones I have to give you. It's up to you whether or not you wish to take them. That is simply that advice I give to parents who come in here to have their children tested. Not all of the subjects-"

"Stop calling them that," May snapped, "they are our children not your lab rats."

The doctor stammered for a while, but Coulson cut his speech short even before it had developed, "Thank you for your time, doctor, but this was a waste of time."

May got up as well and said as she walked to the door with Coulson, "I told you so, Phil, but it's not like you listen to me very often."

Coulson approached Leo and Jemma and ruffled their hair, "Let's go home, chipmunks?"

"Can we eat something first?" Leo asked, tilting his head back to look at his father.

"Why don't we go to get your siblings and go out for lunch?" May suggested, glancing at Coulson to see his thoughts on the matter.

"I think it's a great idea," he replied, raising Leo over his head and setting him over his shoulder, making the way out of the doctor's office, "it's not every day we both get the chance to stay at home, and besides, it's weekend. We'll go for a barbeque and then a walk in park."

"And ice cream too?" Jemma asked, holding her mother's hand.

"Ice cream too," she assured with a smile.

* * *

><p><strong>Leave a review, they are important.<strong>

**(So far and already planned/written) upcoming chapters: Grant's backstory, Trip's backstory, one chapter that was prompt to me through review, Skye and Leo's backstories, and the one chapter in which Grant leaves the Scouts for a much more interesting hobby. So, according to my calculus that makes it... five new chapters coming up soon. **

**I still count on you to send me your ideas. **


	7. Bad boy gone bad

**Chapters now have titles. Wow, how innovative of me! xD**

**This is a bittersweet chapter, I must admit. I still hope you guys like it.**

* * *

><p>Ever since the beginning of school year, Leo was, to Jeff Price and Victor Wallace (two fourth graders), Leopoldio, freak, nerd, or any other name except his own. Leo was the ideal target for bullies: shy, seemingly weak, scared, smart. They didn't even have to hit him; all they had to do was shout at him and steal his lunch.<p>

Last week, the older boys had stepped on Leo's shoelaces as he walked into his classroom. Leo had fallen and had broken his arm. When the nurse had asked him how he had fallen, Leo was scared of Jeff and Victor. He said he had stepped on his own shoelaces. After having to lie that day, Leo decided he wasn't going to put up with the two bullies anymore. When he'd return to classes after the weekend, he'd scare Jeff and Victor so badly they wouldn't bully or nag him anymore.

* * *

><p>Leo clutched the lunchbox's handle tighter in his hand and froze in the middle of the playground as his eyes met Jeff and Victor.<p>

"Yo, Leopoldio," Jeff shouted upon seeing Leo.

He continued to make his way to the table and sat down, head lowered. Victor patted his shoulder strongly, causing the boy's small body to wobble. The two boys laughed.

"Didn't you hear me?" Jeff asked, tilting his head to try to look into Leo's eyes, but he looked away. "I was calling you."

"My name's Leopold," he mumbled, "You didn't call me."

"Ho ho," Jeff laughed, teasingly ruffling his hair, "you're getting braver? Come on, give me your lunch."

Leo smirked naughtily as he opened his lunchbox. He grabbed something; it looked like a small cylinder that perfectly fit in his hand. He stretched his closed fist at the two boys, closed his eyes tightly, and pressed the top button. He flinched and buried his head between his shoulders as a loud 'bang' echoed through the room, accompanied by a blinding light. The kids in the playground started running away, scared, and Jeff and Victor yelled, quickly switching between clamping their ears and rubbing their eyes. Leo got up from his seat and kicked both Jeff's and Victor's shins and they fell on their knees before him.

"Now quit bullying me!" he shouted, throwing his homemade stun grenade into the lunchbox and fleeing the scene.

Noticing the commotion in the playground, the janitor came to check on the kids and then quickly called the teachers. A few minutes later, all the kids were ordered to return to their classrooms, to have their lunchboxes and desks inspected. Leo, of course, had already gotten rid of the stun grenade but he was still taken to the director because Jeff and Victor whined to their teacher as they were taken to be examined in the infirmary. Mrs. Hughes, Leo's teacher, was calling Coulson and May to get to the school as quickly as possible when Leo was escorted to the principal's office.

He couldn't deny that the feeling of being conducted through the halls to the principal's office as the other kids watched was good. He was always being picked on and no one ever knew that he could fight back if he wanted to. As soon as he sat on the chair before the principal's desk, the man placed the stun grenade over the table for him to see it.

"Mr. Quinn," the principal referred to the janitor's name, "found it in the trash bin."

"You can't tell it's mine." Leo replied boastfully, leaning back in his chair.

"He saw you throwing it away."

Mrs. Hughes walked in quietly, sitting on the empty chair beside Leo. "Who gave you that thing, Leo?" She asked quietly.

"No one. I built it myself."

She breathed in sharply, taken aback by his answer. She knew he had the abilities for that and much more. "How did you build a stun grenade, Leo?"

"A stun grenade is easy to build. It is constructed with a casing made to remain intact during detonation and to contain most of its explosive force and avoid shrapnel injuries. Only the light and sound of the explosion are allowed out. The filler is made of a pyrotechnic metal-oxidant mix and an oxidizer. Everything is pretty easy to get, you just have to have skills and patience to build one."

"I can't believe what I'm hearing," the teacher wailed, shocked, "You are such an exceptional student, Leo. So quiet, well behaved, you don't even fail a homework assignment. How could you do this?"

"Usually the quiet ones are the worst," the principal advised.

Leo's face crumpled up in a frown as he spoke angrily, but in a low tone of voice, "When a bully breaks your arm you have to take care of things on your own."

At this Mrs. Hughes turned to the boy, her face expression changing from shock to shame, for not having noticing it earlier, "Why didn't you tell me that Jeff and Victor were bullying you?"

Leo lowered his gaze again, mumbling, "It was not like anyone would believe that fourth graders bothered me. They just call me names and steal my lunch."

"I'm sorry that Jeff and Victor bullied you, Leo, but you should have told your teacher or your parents about it. People could have been hurt with this stun grenade," The principal reprimanded. "Things could have been damaged. Do you have any idea of -"

Leo interrupted the director to give him a long, scientific explanation, "The blinding flash of light momentarily activates all photoreceptor cells in the eye, making vision impossible for approximately five seconds, until the eye restores itself to its normal, unstimulated state. The loud blast of greater than 170 decibels is meant to cause temporary loss of hearing, and also disturbs the fluid in the ear, causing loss of balance. All of this without causing permanent injury. There was no harm that could have resulted from activating the grenade. Well," the boy shrugged and looked away as he admitted, "the concussive blast of the detonation can still injure, and the heat created can ignite flammable materials, but I paid attention to all possible variables that could have caused damage or harm and I avoided them."

The principal removed his glasses and tossed them over the desk, leaning back on his chair. He looked at the teacher, "Are his parents coming anytime soon?"

"Yes, Principal Reyes. Mrs. May said she'd get here soon."

The boy flinched in fear after hearing that his mother was coming. He wished it was Dad. He was easier to deal with than Mom. She'd gaze at him with stern, scary eyes and her face would be so expressionless he wouldn't be able to know how angry she was. Because she would be angry, that he knew for sure.

Leo heard the strong footsteps approaching the door and his heart climbed to his throat. He looked back at the door right before it opened, his breath leaving his lungs and apparently not too willing to return anytime soon.

"Mom -" he whined as he saw her.

May pointed a finger at him and he shushed immediately, shifting uncomfortably in his chair. The principal smirked wickedly as he saw the fear spreading across Leo's face. The teacher stood up, offering her seat to May.

"What did he do, Principal?" The man pointed at the stun grenade laying on the desk. May looked at Leo with empty eyes and asked the principal again, "Was anyone hurt or anything damaged?"

"The two kids that he attacked with the stun grenade are scared but alright. And nothing was damaged."

"Good," she then she broke eye contact with her son, "What's going to happen with him?"

"He'll be suspended, obviously. Next week, at the parents-teachers meeting, the executive council will relate the situation to all the parents, and if it is a unanimous decision, Leopold will have to be transferred."

"Would that be all, Principal Reyes?"

"On my part, yes. I don't know if Mrs. Hughes wishes to say something, or even if Leopold wants to say anything about this."

The teacher nodded her head and looked away, disappointed. Leo, on the other hand, got up from the chair and walked out the door. May followed right after him, closing the door behind her. The boy seemed desperate to walk as fast as his legs allowed. He'd already have to be confined in the car with his mother on the whole way home; if he could avoid talking to her at that moment, he would really appreciated it. Unfortunately, Leo's legs were too short and May walked in quick strides. She caught up with him rapidly and held his hand. Leo felt a chill going down his spine and for a moment there his legs failed him.

"Where did you get the grenade?" she asked.

"I made it," Leo responded, looking at the tiles of the floor as he reluctantly walked hand in hand with his mother.

"And what was the point of bringing it to school and targeting two other kids?"

"They won't leave me alone. I just meant to scare them."

May pulled on Leo's hand, making him stop. She looked down at him, "They hit you?"

"No. They just keep on calling me names and stealing my lunch every day."

"For how long has this been happening?"

"Since school started," he confessed.

The woman sighed and stooped down so that she was at his eye level, "And why didn't you say anything to me or your father?"

He shrugged, "I had to scare them. I had to lie last week and I know how much you hate that we lie, so I -"

"Wait, wait, you lied last week? About what?"

Leo looked away but his mother lightly tighten the grip on his wrist, forcing him to spill it out, "They stepped on my shoelaces when I was entering the classroom. That was how I broke my arm."

"Leo," she breathed, "You should have told us this. I find it really brave of you to defend yourself, but you should have told us. And you shouldn't have built a stun grenade to scare them. People could have gotten hurt."

"I wouldn't hurt anyone, Mom," the kid wailed, his eyes burning with unshed tears, "You know I wouldn't, right, Mom?" Tears dropped from his eyes and his lips pouted, "Mom, believe me. I knew I wouldn't hurt anyone. I just wanted to scare them."

May hugged him and told him firmly, "Quit crying, Leo. I believe you." As she pulled back, she affirmed, "But what you did was very bad. You know that, don't you?"

"What're you gonna do?"

"You and I will have to have a lengthy talk with your dad about this. Now," she ordered, "go get your things from the classroom."

Leo looked back and insisted, "What're you gonna do, Mom?"

She sighed, "The most likely consequence is that your father and I take away all your experiments, for the time being."

"No," he wailed, "don't do that, Mom."

"Go get your things, Leo," May said, firm in her decision.

* * *

><p>Two days later, Coulson and May were called to the school again. This time it was about Grant, and this time both made it to the meeting with the principal. Grant had picked a fight (on purpose) with Jeff and Victor. The two kids ended up getting quite bruised. May and Coulson feared that everything they had accomplished with Grant had been thrown away, but he assured them he was simply looking after his little brother.<p>

* * *

><p><strong>Next chapter: one of the prompts you've sent me. I think I screwed the idea a bit, but it was the best I think I could do with it. It was a very good idea though.<strong>


	8. Golden slumbers

**Here's a little more of Skye in this chapter. This idea was suggested to me by ****Salkri Kachemench. I'm sure I ruined the good idea I was given, but this was the best I could do with it. **

* * *

><p>"Phil, can you come in here for a second?"<p>

"Wait just a moment," he responded from downstairs. He was helping Leo to cut his steak as the boy was just stabbing it instead of actually cutting it into small pieces. Once he was done, he went upstairs, "What's the matter?" he asked as he walked in the bathroom.

May simply pointed at Skye. He saw her sitting on the bathtub with her hair full of shampoo and a plane toy sunk in the tub next to her.

"Is she -" the man began asking, taking a look at her face.

"Sleeping? Yes, she is," May confirmed. "I was washing her hair and she just fell asleep."

"Well, you can do special things with your fingers. When you give me a massage, I-"

"Does it look like I'm joking around?" May asked, crossing her arms over her chest, glaring her husband.

"I'm not joking around either. You should take it as a compliment."

"What I think is that we have to take her to a doctor."

Coulson sighed and adopted a serious posture, "This is not normal. The amount of time she sleeps, and the places she falls asleep at, aren't at all normal."

"Thank you for agreeing with me," May said sarcastically, "Would you look up the number of a sleep specialist while I awake her up and finish bathing her?"

"I will, but before I do," he said as he walked out the bathroom, "I'll just make sure Leo isn't still stabbing his steak anymore."

* * *

><p>When Coulson talked to the receptionist to schedule an appointment for Skye, she was really enlightening. She told them to take the girl's latest physical exam and to bring a bag with her overnight clothes and her stuffed animal (if she had one) because, if the doctor suspected she had any sleep disorder, he'd like to run tests on her that night.<p>

The doctor welcomed the three of them into his office, showed them to their seats, and took a seat behind his desk.

He presented his hand to Skye and was graced with a handshake, "What's your name?"

"I'm Skye. Daddy calls me energetic monkey."

"I'm Martin," he introduced himself with a smile, "My Dad used to call me Scooby-Doo."

Skye giggled. Doctor Martin was probably one of the best doctors Coulson and May had ever been to. Even though he a sleep specialist, he was amazing with children (easily explained by a photo on his desk of himself, his wife and five children). Skye loved him immediately which was impressive since she hated all doctors, even the pediatrician who always offered her a lollipop.

"But do tell me," the doctor turned to Coulson and May, "what seems to be the problem with your little girl?"

May began explaining, "She's always tired and sleepy. It's a struggle to get her out of bed, and then she falls asleep at the strangest times and places. Last night she fell asleep in the bathtub. I don't think that's normal."

"It certainly is not. How would you describe her sleep time? Constant, irregular?"

"I think 'too much' is a good description," Coulson admitted, "Skye's a sleepyhead. The kindergarten teacher tells us that she disappears to the room where the younger kids are and joins them for nap time. We've asked her not to let her take afternoon naps because next year she'll be going to elementary school and she won't be able to take naps in the midafternoon, but apparently she goes into the room anyways."

The doctor took in the explanations and said, "It seems like your energetic monkey has narcolepsy. I'd like to ask you something. It might seem strange, but it's crucial. Skye, can you stand up, please?" The girl climbed down from her mother's lap as ordered and the doctor turned to her parents again, "I'd like you to make her laugh. Make her laugh as hysterically as you can."

May smirked and glanced at her husband, "This is up to you."

Coulson tilted his neck to the left, then to right, loosening his arm muscles and breathing in deeply. "I'm sorry Skye, but Daddy is going to undergo a very strange transformation."

"No," Skye wheezed, mid-laugh, "not the tickle monster."

He only walked closer to her, wiggling his fingers and Skye was already hysterical. Doctor Martin looked at May and confided, "You're husband is good at it."

"He's child himself," she smiled but quickly changed her posture when Skye wobbled.

"It's alright, it's alright," The doctor rapidly assured, patting the chair for Skye to sit again, "I wanted it to happen."

"I got weak on my knees," Skye said with a big grin and unsteady breathing, climbing up to the chair again.

"You sure did. That's called cataplexy and it is very common. When narcoleptic people are overwhelmed by a stress or a strong emotion, they very suddenly, and also very briefly, lose control of their muscles and wobble. Some people lose their balance and collapse on the floor."

"Thanks goodness I didn't," Skye chirped and it caused the doctor to smile because of her word choice, "the floor looks hard."

"It sure is. Thank goodness you didn't collapse. Now tell me something," he crouched next to her chair, "when you wake up, do you feel like you can't talk or move your body?"

Skye nodded her head, "Yeah. It's scary sometimes. What if a monster comes to attack me? I can't defend myself if I can't move or scream."

And with that she had just confirmed two of his theories: Skye suffered of sleep paralysis and hypnagogic hallucinations, which were also very common.

"That's very scary indeed." The doctor put in, "I think you should get a stuffed animal to protect you, or do you have one already?"

"I have a teddy bear, Marshmallow."

"Perfect. Teddy bears are the best at protecting children from scary monsters. Did you bring him with you today?"

"Oopsie," she grinned, "I forgot him in the waiting room."

Martin smiled and lightly pinched her cheek, "Why don't you go and get Marshmallow? I think he's feeling lonely out there."

Skye nodded her head and walked to the waiting room to pick up her stuffed animal.

The doctor carried on with questions more aimed at her parents, "Do you feel that Skye has memory loss, lack of concentration, low motivation, sluggishness? Does she have difficulty keeping up with friends, siblings, or even difficulty completing menial tasks?"

Coulson and May looked at each other; he ended up answering, "I think it's safe to say she has a bit of all of those. We used to think she was simply lazy and uninterested."

"That's perfectly normal, don't feel bad about it. Diagnosing children as young as Skye is always hard, and it is perfectly understandable that people make more linear judgments. It's much easier to conceive the idea that a child is lazy than to immediately jump to the possibility of a narcoleptic disorder."

"So can we, right now, strongly assume that Skye is narcoleptic?" May questioned.

"I'd say I'm 80% sure she suffers from narcolepsy. I'd like to run the two exams I've briefly told you about earlier. I'll get into detail later, don't worry. Now, since you told me earlier she's not your biological daughter, we'll rule out the medical history exams, and since you've brought me her latest physical exam I'd say I have everything I need to skip to the actual tests."

"I got Marshmallow," Skye said as she walked in the room again.

"Good. And you arrived just at the right time. I'll explain to you and your Mom and Dad what exams you'll have to do here, alright?" Skye returned to her seat to listen to the doctor, "Tonight, you'll have to sleep here at our laboratory. Don't worry, one of your parents will stay here with you. And you have Marshmallow too. My nurses will glue some funny things in your forehead called electrodes and we'll know what's happening inside your brain. All you have to do is sleep. The wires are a bit uncomfortable, but I'm sure you'll do great. We'll do an exam called polysomnogram, big word, I know. Then tomorrow we'll do another test. That one is called the multiple sleep latency test. You'll take five naps during the day and then we'll let you go home."

"Cool. I love to take naps."

"I'm sure you do." Doctor Martin walked to the door and opened it, pointing at the nurse at the end of the hall, "See that woman over there? That's Nurse Piper. Could you go with her to get you ready? You know, you have to dress your jammies, get comfortable in bed. Your parents and I will join you in a while, alright?"

Skye nodded and walked to nurse Piper as the doctor asked her to.

"I'll stay with her tonight," Coulson said to his wife, "I'll spend the day here with her so you don't have to miss work." Looking at the doctor once he closed the door, Coulson asked, "If Skye really suffers from narcolepsy, what advice can you give us?"

"I won't prescribe medication. Maybe when she's older she might need it, but not now," Doctor Martin affirmed, sitting at his chair. "But you shouldn't let her drink coffee, tea, cola, or even some non-cola pops, energy drinks, or eat chocolate in the late afternoon. Once I present to you my final diagnosis, I'll help you sketch a strict sleeping schedule, which might include afternoon naps too. You can already warn family members and teachers, whoever she has close contact with about her disorder, just to give them a heads-up. And of course, the most important: have Skye start exercising regularly and decrease repetitive or boring tasks. If you don't do that, it will ruin her sleeping schedule and directly affect yours. She needs to be exhausted by bedtime."

Coulson and May nodded and then they walked with Doctor Martin to the room where Skye was. May bid her farewells and left the girl with Coulson. Once May was home, all the kids were sleeping. She only had to greatly thank Mimi for having looked after them and then slipped into bed. She didn't really sleep much as she and Coulson were talking to each other almost every hour because of Skye.

* * *

><p>The results of Skye's exams were revealed two days later. She did indeed have narcolepsy. Coulson explained to the other kids what being narcoleptic meant. Maybe he should have left the explanations to May. Saying that narcolepsy means that people like to sleep wasn't the best explanation because in the following morning all the kids had self-diagnosed themselves as narcoleptic.<p>

* * *

><p><strong>So, I've been counting the upcoming chapters and ordering them and all that, and I really hope you can endure me at least until chapter 20, because that's how many chapters I have planned... Anyways, next chapter is going to be Grant's backstory. <strong>

**Leave me your reviews and your ideas. **


	9. Doubt it

**So, here it is, Grant's backstory. Hope you guys enjoy it.**

* * *

><p>May heard a few quiet laughs as she glanced up at her children playing All Fours in the living room. Grant had chosen Jemma as his partner, Skye and Trip were another pair and that left Leo and Lance to be a team. What made May smirk were everyone's comments towards Lance: 'Got something in your eye? You can't stop blinking', 'Your nose is hella itchy', 'You're kicking the wrong leg', 'You have a suit, don't you?'. It was inevitable, Lance was terrible at lying and faking and so far he and Leo had scored no points at all.<p>

Leo tossed the cards on the floor, "Let's play something else. Lance sucks at this."

"Alright, let's play Go Fish," Trip said, gathering up the cards, "It's best for Skye too."

"I can play," she grumbled.

"And better than Lance," Grant piped up.

The sibling rivalry between Lance and Grant was evident; the two of them were always disagreeing unless the matter was pranks and teasing their other siblings. Other than that, the two of them were always scuffling. Luckily they'd make up as quickly as they'd wrestle. Coulson took a seat next to his wife as she signed a pile of reports. He had a smile on his face as they watched Grant being tortured by Lance. The younger boy was lying face up on the wooden floor, stomping his feet between giggles as his brother straddled him and tickled him, which was Grant's weakness.

"Oh, c'mon," Grant gasped and giggled, his face getting redder with each wheeze. "Stop it." he hysterically laughed again, "St-stop, Lance. I'm-I'm tick-ticklish. Stop!"

"Alright," Lance gave up, getting off top of his brother, "you've suffered enough for messing with me."

Grant remained lying down on the floor, both hands clutching his stomach as he tried to regain control of his breathing.

"Do you remember how Grant was when we adopted him?" Coulson quietly asked, looking back at his wife.

May sighed and smiled ever so slightly, "We've walked down a long, hard road."

* * *

><p><em>Traumatized, emotionally detached, violent, unsociable<em>. Dr. Maggie Morris, psychologist, only needed five words to describe Grant Ward when she first met him on an appointment when he was six years old.

It took her a year and a half of therapy to heal a broken little boy, but Dr. Maggie warned his parents that Grant would never be a normal child because part of his boyhood had been taken away prematurely. Coulson and May were very well aware of that when they first adopted him. Grant, unlike his siblings (with the exception of Lance), was adopted because he was chosen to be adopted, not because SHIELD called in for a favor from Coulson and May. After Grant's adoption, the two of them started having a different view of their children: they no longer saw them as only assignments; they fully accepted them as their children also.

One old acquaintance of May, knowing that she and Coulson had adopted two children, came up to her. Grant was all over the local news due to the horrible conditions in which he was found. The man knew no one would want to adopt him, and he thought that maybe Melinda and Phil would want to give it a shot. The couple wasn't sure if they'd accept the boy, but upon looking at his photos, it twisted their stomachs. Grant was full of bruises all over his body, he was thin and his eyes mirrored sadness and fear, nothing else. Grant had been found tied up to the house's radiator after his parents were taken into custody. Grant's older brother, Christian, reported them to the cops after being mercilessly beaten.

The child protective services thought of putting both boys together for adoption. They quickly gave up on the idea when Grant saw his brother and yelled, running away from him. It turned out Christian had bullied Grant too. The two were taken to different places, miles away from each other, and both were undergoing therapy. May and Coulson were bothered with Grant's case. It didn't make sense for them why those parents had children only to mistreat them. It filled them with anger towards the parents and sorrow for the boy. However, they were not going to adopt Grant to do a favor to May's acquaintance, and they certainly wouldn't adopt the kid out of any feelings of pity. The two of them felt he needed a home and they wanted their house to be Grant's home. When the couple met him at the orphanage where he was placed, their conversation wasn't extensive, as they expected.

Grant only had question, "I'll never see my parents or my brother?"

"No," Coulson said as he stooped down, "never again."

"Then take me to your home."

The first night Grant spent at the Coulson's was only the beginning of a year and a half of trouble. Grant was very much grateful for having a bed and a blanket, and no one that hurt him, but he was terribly scared of falling asleep. He had always had that fear (a very rational fear though); if he slept he wouldn't be awake and alert. At his old house, nights were the worst. That was when, for some reason that he failed to understand, he was beaten. Trip was merely turning in bed, sleeping, but Grant was scared that the sleeping figure in the other bed would get up to hurt him. So, he anticipated anything and jumped off bed. He grabbed the first thing he saw, turned out to be a toy car. He smacked Trip with it in the head and obviously the ten year old woke up with a scream.

Coulson and May weren't sleeping either so they got of bed as fast as bullets. When they got to the boys' bedroom, Grant was already running out the door and Trip was holding to his brow that dripped blood. Coulson tended to the boy, guiding him to the bathroom to treat the cut and May walked after Grant. Jemma also awoke up, startled, and it was up to Coulson to calm her down and try to get her to bed. Grant hid inside the cupboards in the kitchen. May told him she wasn't going to hurt him, she just wanted him out of there. It was no use telling him that. Grant just cried, tears running down his face and dripping off his chin, sobs racking his small frame.

At some point May sat down on the kitchen floor, waiting for him to come out. He had been crying for half an hour non-stop by then. Coulson showed up in the kitchen but May told him to go away. He had never seen such sadness and determination on his wife's face. Five hours went on and she hadn't given up. She kept on telling Grant she wouldn't hurt him, or even reprimand him. She just wanted him to crawl out of there. Eventually Grant's stomach growled with hunger (as he had chosen to stir the food around in the plate earlier at dinner) and May put on the floor, right before the counter's door, a plate with chocolate chip cookies and a glass of milk. The boy's hand slowly snuck out to steal a cookie, and then his head peeked out. Soon enough he was sitting on the tiled floor devouring the cookies.

"What are you afraid of, Grant?" May asked him.

He looked down and quietly whimpered, "I'm scared of falling asleep. That's-that's when my parents hit-hit me-"

"This isn't your old house. We won't hurt you, Grant."

Without a warning he crawled into her lap and fit his small body frame in her arms. His fingers knotted in the material of her T-shirt, not wanting to let go of her for a second as he cried harder. May rubbed slow circles on his back in an effort to ease the noisy sobs, the never-ending tears and his quiet mumbles in which he vehemently believed: 'I'm a bad. I'm a monster.' he repeated over and over again. After making sure Jemma and Trip were sleeping soundly, Coulson went to check on his wife and son again. He found Grant quietly sobbing, almost sleeping, and his wife with eyes closed, lullabying and smoothly rocking the boy.

"_There was a boy, a very strange enchanted boy. They say he wandered very far, very far, over land and sea. A little shy, and sad of eye, but very wise was he. And then one day, a magic day he passed my way, and while we talked of many things, fools and kings, this he said to me: The greatest thing you'll ever learn is just to love and be loved in return._"

Coulson sighed as he saw them and May opened her eyes. He knelt on the floor next to them and pressed a kiss on the boy's hair and then another on his wife's forehead. It was in moments like that that Coulson had the certainty that she was stronger than he could ever be; he wasn't sure he could have handled Grant the way she did.

For two whole months Coulson felt useless. Grant went to appointments with a psychologist and every time he wanted anything he went to his mother. He didn't even say a word to his father. May felt pity for her husband whenever she saw him trying to play with Grant and seeing that the boy wasn't even willing to talk to him. But Coulson never gave up and his perseverance paid off. One day, after an appointment, Grant walked to his father and offered him one of his soldier men.

"Play with me, dad."

Coulson felt like his floor had been swept away suddenly. He was overwhelmed but took the toy and played with him. After that day, the display of soldier men grew, lining up on the window sill of the boys' bedroom. Grant trusted the inanimate toys to keep him safe, and his father bought him as many as he wished, so that he'd feel safe.

Although Coulson and May did an extraordinary work in helping Grant through his problems, it was Jemma and Trip that deserved all the compliments. The little girl always had a smile to offer her older brother and the older boy was patient and forgiving, amazingly forgiving for a ten-year-old. Even though Grant had hurt him and barely talked to him, and even if he had all the reasons in the world to hate him, Trip waited for Grant to trust him.

* * *

><p>Fifteen minutes later (after Trip and Skye won two rounds in a row of Go Fish and the others accused them of cheating) the kids changed the card game they were playing again. This time they were playing Bullshit and now Lance wasn't the only who was lousy at lying. Jemma was also terrible at it. She could barely hold the playing cards in her hand as she held almost the entire stack.<p>

Grabbing a handful of them – about ten or fifteen – she put them on the center and said, "Three Jacks, four sixes, three sevens and one Ace."

Grant squinted and took a look at the cards he held; he had two sevens, there was no way Jemma could have three of them. "I doubt it," he said.

Jemma sighed and grabbed the stack of cards that was in the middle, knowing she had been caught lying again. Leo started laughing so hard that he fell on his back but continued laughing. Trip smiled and draped his arm around Jemma, cuddling her.

"You need to be a better liar, Jem."

"I don't want to be like Lance, thank you."

This time it was Grant who laughed loudly as Lance had a surprised expression on his face and couldn't even say anything in his defense.

Skye grinned, picked up all the cards and held them against her chest as she happily hoorayed, "I win!"

"That's not how - nevermind," Trip gave up on trying to explain her that the objective was to have no cards at all.

Coulson left the office room and met his laughing children in the living room, "Can Mom and Dad join you for-"

"No!" the six answered immediately.

"Do you remember when we played poker, Dad?" Jemma subtly reminded.

Everyone could still remember vividly the day the whole family played poker...

* * *

><p><strong>Two words about the next chapter: Mother's logic... Every mother has her own set of unique logic; May's no ordinary mother. :)<strong>


	10. Mother knows best

**This chapter is because mom's logic is hard break. I'm pretty sure you've read about these 'teachings' somewhere else; I took some and wrote this chapter.**

**Oh, and the poll is now closed. The results are in my profile, go check them; soon enough you'll get a chapter with the most voted character.**

* * *

><p>Mothers are extraordinary women who are gifted with an extra amount of love and patience. They also excel at logic and life lessons. Melinda May was no exception. Even though she wasn't the biological mother of any of her children, it didn't invalidate the fact that she was a mother. Usually May would use her life lessons and logic when Coulson was on missions abroad and she was alone with the kids.<p>

* * *

><p>May taught her oldest girl (even though she was skeptical) to be religious.<p>

The woman's eyes nearly bulged out of her head when she saw the state of Jemma and the kitchen. The girl was covered from head to toe in a red sticky substance that May preferred not to identify. Part of what was supposed to be Jemma's science project was destroyed; the rest was still sitting on the kitchen table and the walls were covered in the same pasty stuff that covered the girl.

"Jemma," May's voice roared, "you better pray that it will come off of the walls." Before leaving the kitchen, she said over her shoulder, "When I get back here, the kitchen better be spotless."

The girl's face filled with fear. She put her hands together under her chin and started very quietly, "Dear baby Jesus, Buddha, uh, SpongeBob -"

"Damn, what happened in here?" Trip asked with a frown as he walked in, stopping to contemplate the pretty large mess covering the walls. He gave up trying to find an apple to eat and instead focused on Jemma. "And what are you doing?"

"I'm praying!"

Trip's frown creased even more, "To Buddha, Jesus and SpongeBob?"

"Mom's pretty mad. There's no time to be picky!"

"Didn't you say you're an atheist?"

"I know my loyalties are with science and reasonable thinking, but this time I need something greater to help me."

"How about getting a mop and a wet cloth?" The boy told her, "That should help a lot more than asking for SpongeBob's assistance."

* * *

><p>May taught her kids about the importance of being nice to others.<p>

"Would you shut up, Grant?" Lance yelled, "I didn't cheat!"

"No, of course not," the other complained, "You just had the settings on and your shot error was 15%."

"I honestly didn't know the settings were on. I did set them correctly once I noticed it, didn't I?

"Alright, but we're starting again."

Lance's accent had never ever sounded more British as it did when he said, "No we're not."

"Yes we are! That's unfair."

"No, we're not starting over."

The two kept taking turns repeating 'yes' and 'no' fifteen times in a row. May got so tired of hearing their accusations and their tone of voice climbing up in volume that she showed up in the living room and confiscated both game controllers.

"Now, if you're going to kill each other, do it outside. Please think of how much work I'd have to do because of you two; blood stains are hard to remove."

* * *

><p>May taught one of her sons that a mother's logic isn't to be discussed.<p>

"Hey, mom," Grant crooned, taking a seat on the couch by her side, "do you think I can participate in the boxing compe -"

"No," she simply replied, not tearing her gaze away from the book she was reading.

Grant had quit the Scouts Boys because the only reason he had joined them in the first place was to learn survival tips, and as he told his parents, he had learned them all. However, he already had a new idea in his mind when he told his parents that scouts weren't for him. He wanted to learn boxing. May was pleased with the idea; Coulson was worried. It was no lie that Grant still held a grudge against his birth parents and his blood brother. May wanted him to get rid of all of it by punching a bag; Coulson feared that boxing could make him violent. Luckily he was a good student at the downtown's academy, and so far hadn't displayed violent behavior. Of course he'd use Lance as his guinea pig to practice at home, but Grant and Lance's scuffles were older than dirt.

"I didn't even finish tal -"

"Still no."

Grant threw his head back and sighed soundly, raising his arms in the air. "Why can't I go?"

"Because I said so, that's why."

"Wow, really?" he mumbled, incredulous, "You're going with _that_?"

"Yes, I'm going with _that_."

"Ugh," Grant grumbled, getting up, "Mom's logic is stupid."

"Spend a weekend with your grandmother and you'll see how weird a mother's logic really is," May said under her breath when Grant was already out in the backyard.

* * *

><p>May taught her youngest child about behavior modification.<p>

Doctor Martin had recommended Skye to do an activity that tired her, so it'd help her with the narcolepsy disorder. Skye picked roller hockey without hesitation. She was a bit too young to be part of the team, but the coach took her in anyways. Coulson was overly worried about his little six-year-old girl in oversized equipment, playing in a team of ten-year-old boys who were already advanced hockey players. The fact that Skye overheard her dad confessing to her mom that he feared for her safety only caused Skye to feel insecure. And that was something astonishing since Skye was the freest and most confident person that lived in that house.

"I don't wanna go to hockey again," she whined.

"You slipped and bumped your head," May said, holding a bag of ice against her forehead, "no need to be so whiny about it. I've told you to practice skating more."

"I'm practicing," Skye said, not looking at her mother because she knew she was telling a big lie.

"You're really bad at lying," the woman claimed, "The roller skates are under your bed every day until you pick them up to go to the trainings."

Skye pouted, "But mom, it's hard and I get really tired." May rolled her eyes; that was the whole point of practicing sports, "I wanna quit."

"You're not quitting just because it got harder. You just have to keep on trying. You have to practice skating so that you get better at it. You can ask your brothers to help you with it." As Skye tilted her head and sent her a helpless look, May sighed deeper, "And please stop acting like your father, will you? I'm not changing my mind no matter what you do."

"Ugh," she groaned, "at least I tried."

Skye held the bag of ice against her forehead, debating whether she'd practice skating again or not. About an hour later she was out in the street, being taught by Grant and Lance how to skate properly.

* * *

><p>May taught her very smart son about logic – logic that surpassed Newton's gravity law.<p>

Skye earned the nickname of 'energetic monkey' because she was one. Leo was simply called 'monkey' because he was always climbing up something, which was most of the time the tree in the backyard of the house. May always blamed Coulson for incentivizing the so-accident-prone-Leo to climb up the tree. He said it made the boy stronger. May strongly disagreed, believing it'd make the kid break another bone.

"If you fall down from that tree and break your neck, you're not going to get to eat the cookies I've made," May said, standing in the porch, watching Leo hanging on one of the strongest branches of the tree.

"Mom, I can't come down," he yelped.

As he looked down, it felt like the ground was coming towards him. Leo was feeling dizzy and his palms were getting sweaty.

"You've climbed it, didn't you? Now come down." The woman retorted, walking the distance between the porch and the tree.

Even though he was increasingly getting nervous, he didn't fail to provide a detailed explanation, "I'm very sure that gravity will be against me if I try to climb down. Judging by my placement and the forces involved, I'd hit the – ah!" he shrieked, ending up hanging on the tree branch like a sloth, upside down.

He looked down, panting, tightening his hold on the tree as he attempted to wrap his legs around the branch.

"Let go," May said with open arms, expecting any second for Leo's weight to fall on her arms.

"Gravity still works whether you're there or not."

"I'm here to catch you. Let go."

Leo dropped his legs, swinging them as he quietly whimpered. He hushed as he felt his mother's arm looping around his legs, sustaining his balance. Then he let go off his hands and May brought him down to the lawn safely. As soon as he hit the ground, he was already poised to run away.

"Not so fast," May pulled on the back of her son's shirt collar, stopping him, "what did we learn just now?"

"That gravity is a very strong force?" he said with a smirk.

"And what else?"

"That if I break my neck I don't get to eat your cookies?"

"That's a good boy," she let go of his shirt, "You better not climb up that tree again, Leo," May warned as he ran inside, his eyes set on the last two cookies that were left in the plate.

The very next day Leo was hanging upside down on the tree branch again.

* * *

><p>May taught Grant about foresight.<p>

"When was the last time you showered?" May asked, leaning into Grant, inhaling deeply.

"Uh, last night?" he said, "We all showered yesterday."

"No, I meant did you actually shower? You know, when did you use soap and shampoo and scrub the dirt off you?"

Grant turned to his mother, seemingly offended by her question, "I wash myself!"

"Clearly," May rolled her eyes, continuing, "Make sure you go take a real shower to get clean and smelling nice. In case you're in sick a doctor will leave you to die if you are dirty and smell bad."

"You think I'll need to see a doctor soon?"

"If you don't take shower you might."

Grant ran upstairs, stripping off his shirt on the way. He spent over twenty minutes washing himself but he did return smelling good and looking clean again.

* * *

><p>May taught her youngest kids about osmosis (even if Leo knew what it was).<p>

Leo twirled the pasta with his fork, but that was all he did. He had stuffed his stomach earlier with Oreos, even though his mother told him not to. He told her he was like cows: his stomach had four different compartments, so he could eat the cookies. May smirked and let him have as many Oreos he wanted, and then she wouldn't let him leave the table until he'd realized that he wasn't supposed to stuff his stomach so close to dinnertime.

Trip, Lance, Jemma and Grant had already finished dinner and were in the living room, watching TV. Lance had been the first to scarf down all of his dinner since football trainings made him so hungry he could eat the whole world and still wouldn't be satisfied. He walked into the kitchen, where Leo and Skye were still playing around with their dinner, and walked to the fridge.

After opening the door, he moaned, "Oh, bollocks, we're out of popsicles."

"Did you know that popsicles were invented by an eleven-year-old?" Leo commented, taking one unwilling bite of one of the noodles. "It's true," the boy insisted as Lance shot him a disbelieving look. "You can make popsicles at home."

"How?" Lance asked excited.

May breathed in slowly and pointed at Lance, "Go back to watching TV. And you," she turned to Leo, "shut your mouth and eat your dinner."

"I can't do both," Leo pointed out. "And that's called osmosis, it only happens in our cells."

"Alright," May said defeated by the genius, "Then how about you stuff your mouth with food and don't talk. Better?"

"I'm full," Leo whined.

"Of course you are. Now I hope you realize you don't have a compartmentalized stomach like cows."

"Can I leave the table?" he asked, tilting his head, trying to charm his mother with his cute look.

"Yes, you can."

"Can I leave too?" Skye spoke in the lowest voice anyone had heard her muster. She looked really upset to still be at the table.

May looked at the girl, "No. Not until half of that pasta is eaten."

* * *

><p>May taught her oldest son about extra sensory perception.<p>

May sat on the swing on the porch. She had a file resting on her lap and a pen in her hand as she wrote down a report. She had to move her work place outside since all the kids were playing out in the street with the neighbor's kids, Victoria, Abraham, and Franklin Thompson. She had to keep an eye on those nine kids since the Thompsons weren't even caring a bit as to what their kids were doing.

"Trip, put your sweater on," May shouted over the noise the kids made.

"I'm not cold."

"You don't you think I know when you are cold? Put it on."

"I'm sweating, mom," Trip noted.

"Exactly," May insisted, "You're sweating and the wind is rising. You'll get a cold pretty quickly. Put the damn shirt on."

Trip raised his arms in surrender and put on the shirt much to his mother's pleasure.

* * *

><p><strong>I hope you liked this chapter. Leave a review tell me if you liked it, and leave me your suggestions.<strong>

**Next chapter is based on something that was prompted to me.**


	11. CIA – Crowd of Immoral A-holes

**I had so much for with this prompt. This was suggested to me by joshua. perry****. 3705 and Girl-who-lived-in-FAIRYLAND. I kind of merged the two suggestions into one and came up with this chapter. Hope you guys like it.**

* * *

><p>Staying home with Dad was one of the best things in the world. Mostly because Dad would fall asleep and they could do wanted they wanted - mischief included. This time was no different. May had left the office earlier to take Trip to a routine check-up at the doctor, and since Coulson didn't go to work, he stayed with the kids. Skye begged her dad to join her to watch cartoons, and half way through an episode, Coulson was already loudly snoring with his head resting on the back of the couch. Upon seeing their father sleeping, all the kids dispersed to their various activities.<p>

Coulson woke up, startled, to the sound of something strange. He lifted his head and rubbed his face, which proved to be a mistake. Whipped cream was now smeared all over his face, which he realized had been on his hand. Lance's giggles were close and once Coulson looked at him, the kid didn't even try to hide the fact that he had poured a generous amount of whipped cream on his father's hand.

"You're not even trying to hide it, are you?" Coulson asked, fuming. "You're on time-out. Go face the wall."

Lance immediately pouted but did as he was ordered. As Coulson got up from the couch, something else caught his attention.

"Are these moths? Are moths flying around in this house?"

"Uh, no, no," Jemma lied, chasing after them.

"Do you want to try that again?" Jemma looked down, embarrassed, "Where are this moths coming from?"

"The larvae that were hidden under my bed in a box hatched."

"You better think of how bad it is to lie during your time-out," Coulson pointed the wall and added, "join your brother."

By this time, Coulson was certain nothing else could go wrong. He could already imagine that Leo was behind the electrical discharge that startled him awake. He really hoped that Grant and Skye were being good, because he really hated to put his kids on time-out. He was very wrong. On the way to the kitchen ( where he had seen Leo's curly head escaping a moment earlier) Coulson passed a mirror and saw his face, covered with black marker doodles. He had a moustache and a unibrow.

Grant was caught red-handed, still holding the marker pen. "Time-out?" the boy spoke first.

"What do you think? You won't be alone, though."

There was no sign of Skye anywhere, which was worrying. Coulson was now firm on the idea that he'd soon have five children lined up against the wall. But before focusing on the youngest, Coulson really wanted to find Leo, and he knew just where to find him. The genius boy was by the electrical panel with a screwdriver in his hands, two seconds away from being electrocuted. His heart climbed to his throat as he ran to grab the boy's hand.

"Drop it, Leo."

"I was going to fix it," Leo rushed to explain, "It shorted out while I was –"

"I don't even want to know. Right now I want you to go to the living room. I need to find Skye."

Coulson looked in every nook and cranny of the house, only to find Skye in the home office, playing on his computer. He was relieved to know she was the only one who didn't misbehave minute he fell asleep.

"Everybody, attention," Coulson demanded as he walked in the living room. All the kids stiffened and looked down, avoiding looking at their father, "I hope you understand what you did was all wrong. You should be ashamed; the youngest of this family was the only one who managed to behave better. I've told you I'm cool when you are play with me, and I'm fully on board with your experiments," he continued, looking at Jemma and Leo, "but this was unacceptable. You took advantage of my nap to cause chaos in this house, so you're all on time-out for the next twenty minutes. And just you wait until your mother comes home. She'll think of good punishments, especially created for each one of you."

"Not my PlayStation again," Lance whined quietly.

"If you don't want to have your PlayStation confiscated, don't misbehave. Now, come on, everybody faces the wall for the next twenty minutes."

While the kids complied with the imposed punishment in the living room, Coulson washed his face to get rid of Grant's doodles and the rest of the whipped cream. He finished with his face reddened from the excessive rubbing and, after fixing the electrical panel, he announced to his kids that their time-out was over. The house was suddenly quieter than before as the kids resumed their activities.

The doorbell rang. Coulson frowned and rushed to open it; he had no idea who it'd be at that time of the day. Two men in dark suits smiled grimly as he opened the door for them.

The smaller one began, showing him his badge, "Agent Hughes, this is my partner," he pointed with his head to the taller one, also showing his badge, "Agent Saldaña, we're CIA. We'd like to ask you a few questions."

"About?"

The two agents looked at each other and Saldaña ended up answering, "Our database was hacked. We've traced the source back here."

"Well, in case you can't notice, I'm a bit too busy to hack the CIA database."

"As much as we sympathize with your problems, we're dealing with a matter of national security and we'd like to take a look around." Hughes affirmed.

"If this is a matter of national security then don't waste your time here."

Coulson was interrupted by the two agents walking in the house without invitation. They looked around until they found Skye at the computer.

"Hey there," Saldaña began, "what are you doing?"

Skye frowned and glanced around the room, searching for her father.

"Skye," Coulson spoke, "give us a second here, please?" Once Skye was out the room, the man resumed, "Do you honestly believe my six-year-old daughter hacked into your database?"

"It wouldn't be too abnormal to imagine," Hughes said, walking to the computer.

"You'd better have a warrant to take a look at my computer." Coulson warned, slamming down his laptop's screen, "If I wanted to hack the CIA database, I wouldn't even break a sweat doing it. Your security protocols are very primitive."

"So you suddenly became an expert in security protocols?" Saldaña sassed, his hand hovering over his handcuffs.

Coulson sighed and walked to the drawer, showing them his badge, "Now would you leave my house? I'm sure you don't want my boss to give your boss a call, do you?"

Saldaña pulled his partner to the corner and confided, "He's either playing us for the sake of one of his agency's missions, or he didn't do anything and we got the location wrong."

"And what if he did something and you're just being blinded by his shiny badge?"

"Have you seen how many kids he has? If I was a woman, I wouldn't even trust him to pull out. He didn't do it, I'm sure." The taller agent turned to face Coulson and said, "We're sorry for breaking in like this. We'll be on our way."

Hughes and Saldaña left through the front door as quickly as they entered. Coulson was surprised with their sudden change of heart, but didn't give it much of a thought. At the moment, he only wanted to find Skye.

"Did I do well?" she asked.

Coulson picked her up in arms and loudly smooched her cheek, "You did perfect. In a few weeks, let's try to hack the FBI's database."

* * *

><p>Later that night when all the kids were sleeping, Coulson and May were folding clothes, trying to match socks with their pairs.<p>

"Anything exciting happen at the office today?" Coulson asked.

"Not really," she said, throwing a sock at Coulson, "And around here? How was the day?"

He folded the matching pair socks of he had and handed the other one he was holding to his wife, "Skye hacked the CIA database. They paid us a little visit, but left really quickly."

"They're idiots, what to expect?" May snorted. "Next up you could help her with hacking the FBI."

"I've told her that. You know what we should get?" he asked, waiting for a sign from May to let him know she was paying attention, "A maid. Matching socks is hard."

"Keep on folding, Phil," she looked at him with a smirk, "I might reward you in a bit."

"Forget the maid, I can do this in ten minutes," he grinned.

May looked up at the lamp on the ceiling, "Is that a moth?"

"Oh crap," Coulson mumbled, recalling he had forgotten about the moths in the house.

* * *

><p><strong>Next chapter: Jemma's back story. I know many of you are eager to read about it.<strong>


	12. Jemma Simmons: The First Adopted

**I hope you guys enjoy Jemma's back story. :)**

* * *

><p><em>The rain poured down endlessly and turned the road into vast a lake of dull, muddy water. Dark grey clouds covered the sky. The windshield wipers were powerless in clearing the intense pouring rain. The sound of the raindrops blended with the occasional whoosh of the breeze. Everything was bleak, gray, and dreary - even the atmosphere; it seemed like darkness had swallowed the earth. Loud, deafening thunderclaps in the distance seemed to rip the sky in half.<em>

_Jemma cried in her booster seat, dreading the sounds of the loud roaring thunderclaps and the continuous pouring rain._

_"Mummy," she bawled, looking at her mother who sat in the backseat next to her, "Jemma's scared."_

_"It's alright, sweetheart," the woman said soothingly, tapping her chest gently, "Daddy will get us home soon enough."_

_The woman's eyes turned to the storm ahead of them. She feared the rain, noticing that wipers couldn't clear the liquid and that her husband could barely see the road ahead of them. Perhaps they should have postponed Jemma's appointment with the pediatrician. They could have put off the excitement of learning that their thirteen-month-old baby girl was gifted with an intelligence that surpassed her age's average. But now they knew: Jemma was different from the other babies._

_What she now really wanted to know, though, was if they'd make home safe and sound._

* * *

><p>The sky was heavy and grey, and so low that the world felt small and close. The air was thick and warm with the smell of the coming storm. Nothing had a shadow - there wasn't enough light. The wind rose, blowing harder and harder, in big gusts. Soon the rain began to fall, slowly at first, splattering the sidewalk haphazardly. Then it fell as if from buckets, cascading like a waterfall from the heavens. Jemma looked out the window, her forearms propped on the sill and her chin resting over them. Skye played out in the puddles as the rain poured, shrieking in delight as she jumped in the water and caught the drops in her open mouth. The first lightning bolt brightened the dark sky. Jemma flinched and clamped her ears.<p>

She began whispering, "One, two, three, fo - " the rolling boom of the thunder reverberated overhead. Jemma cringed as the thunder sound went on for long seconds.

Coulson opened the door and soon the intense wind rolled in, blowing his hair back and splattering his face with cold raindrops.

"Skye!" he called out, trying to be heard over the blowing wind and pouring rain. "Skye, get back inside."

"Aww," the boys loudly whined as the TV blacked out suddenly.

The man helped Skye to enter the house against the strong wind and wrapped her in a fleece blanket. "You go upstairs and wait. Mom or I will give you dry clothes for you to change into."

"Trip, Lance," May called, rushing into the living room. "Come with me to the basement. I need help."

"Everything's locked up?" Coulson asked before his wife walked out the room.

"Yes," she replied, brushing her slightly wet hair off her face, "I'll just make sure we have everything ready in the basement. There's a tornado heading to the town."

Coulson wasn't able to process the information as Leo proudly said to him, "I've unplugged the TV."

His father ruffled his head, "Very good, Leo."

"Want me to unplug other things?"

"No, no," he spoke, looking around, "I've got that covered. Thank you. But you know, you could get the battery radio and tune in to the NWR broadcast." As Leo walked away, searching for the radio, Coulson turned his attention to the remaining boy, "Grant, can you call Mimi and make sure she's alright?"

Coulson and May valued Mimi a lot; she was a big help for them, and since she lived alone (she was divorced and her only son was in TDY) and they were at the moment facing a low category tornado to hit the town, they wanted to make sure the woman was alright.

"Crap," Coulson hissed, running upstairs, remembering he had forgotten a soaked wet Skye waiting for dry clothes.

"Jemma, get away from the window, please." May said as she returned at full speed from the basement.

"Mom," Leo showed up with the radio, "there's a tornado coming."

"I know, Leo. Go to the basement and stay there with Trip and Lance. You too, Grant," she spoke, looking at the other boy.

"Dad told me to call Mimi. She says she's a bit scared," Grant said, "we should get her to come here, right?"

May nodded her head, leading Grant to the stairs, "I'll go get her. Just go downstairs and take Jemma with you. And tell your Dad and Skye to get in the basement too," she ordered calmly.

She made her way out the door, fighting the strong wind that rose. As she saw low clouds brewing by the horizon line, she sped up her pace to the neighbor's house. The rain was still going strong and chilling her to the bone.

As Leo made his way to the second flight of the house, to inform his father about the coming tornado, Grant tried to take Jemma to the basement. She was frozen in fear, silently crying.

"Mom's out to get Mimi," Grant informed, looking back as he heard his father coming down the stairs.

"Ok. Now downstairs, please," Coulson said, quickly climbing down the stairs, carrying Skye in his arms. Upon reaching the last step, he put the girl down on her feet, "Come on, downstairs. You and Skye."

The two kids walked down to the basement, joining their siblings. Coulson crossed the distance to Jemma, wrapping his arms around her waist and lifting her off her feet. He knew why Jemma was so terrified: she absolutely dreaded thunder.

* * *

><p><em>"Shh, don't fret baby girl," the man behind the wheel comforted. He stretched his hand back, patting on his daughter's knee as she cried in her booster seat, "we're going to be home soon."<em>

_As he turned his attention back to the road, he saw two bright lights coming closer and heard the loud sound of a honk. He had no time to react. The mother unfastened her seatbelt quickly and shielded her daughter's body with her own._

_When the paramedics made it to the scene they trampled through the small lake of muddy water. The rain washed away the blood from the couple's and the truck driver's bodies. Upon confirming none of them had pulse they turned their attention to the crying baby that they hadn't discovered yet. They found her trapped in the booster seat, bloodied but not hurt. Her mother's now dead body had sheltered her from any harm._

* * *

><p>"It's alright, Jemma. As soon as Mom and Mimi get here, we'll go downstairs. You can't hear the thunder from down there."<p>

She wiped her tears away with the palm of her hand, "I shouldn't be crying. Eight year olds aren't supposed to cry or be afraid of thunder."

Coulson giggled quietly, "Who said that?"

"Those people who write books: doctors, psychologists, scientists-"

"Jemma, it's ok to cry," he whispered, "Who said that those people are experts? That's the one thing I hate about us, humans," he confessed. "We love to label people. It doesn't matter if you're eight and you're scared of thunder. We're not all the same, and we're not supposed to be the same. It'd be pretty dull if we were all alike. Tell me," Coulson walked to the couch and sat with Jemma on his lap, "how many different people can we humans create?"

The girl thought for her second, sobbing every now and then, "In humans with 23 chromosomes there are over 8 million possible combinations of chromosomes, that from just one parent. So, any couple could have over 70 trillion different possible children, based just on the number of chromosomes, not considering the actual genes on those chromosomes."

"How much is even one trillion?" he frowned.

"It's a 1 followed by 9 zeroes."

"That's a huge number."

"Astronomers estimate there are about 100 trillion stars in the Milky Way alone."

"See? A couple can have almost as many different children as the stars of one galaxy. If one couple can-" he stopped talking for a moment upon seeing the bright light of another lightning bolt. He covered Jemma's ears as the thunder roared, "If one couple can have 70 trillion different children, imagine how many different individuals the 7 billion people of the world can create. We are all unique, we all behave differently, we all know different things. I was scared of thunder until I twelve; I didn't walk until I was almost two. According to those people who write books and label people, I'd be different, bad different. I turned out fine, didn't I?"

Jemma hugged her father instead of saying anything else.

"Do you know why thunder scared you so much?" he asked, getting a nod from Jemma, "You were little, barely one year old when your parents died, you know that. But you don't know that they died in a car accident. It was a rainy night, thunder ripped the sky in two, just like today. You are out of the ordinary, Jemma, and you remember the sound of the thunder. You're scared of them because of the accident."

She knew that her parents had died when she was little. However, she didn't know how it had happened, or that she had been with them when it happened. But Jemma didn't have time to react to the recent learned truth. May walked in, completely drenched, along with Mimi.

"We're going to get dry," May said, showing Mimi the way upstairs.

"What were you thinking of going out there with this weather?" Coulson asked, worried, walking to her with Jemma in his arms.

"It's just rain and thunder. I wouldn't die from it."

Jemma's lip pouted and she began crying at that comment.

"What's the matter, Jemma?" the woman asked, running her fingers through the girl's hair.

"I told about her parents' accident."

May glared him intensely, "Couldn't it wait? You thought this was a good moment to tell her about it?"

"It just sort of came out. I didn't plan it-"

"Stop fighting," Jemma begged, raising her hands.

As another rumble of thunder came crushing down, the girl covered her ears and hid her head in the crook of her dad's neck. Coulson and May exchanged a look; she walked upstairs, he made the way to the basement.

* * *

><p>Mimi and the kids slept, in the basement, curled up in blankets. Only May and Coulson were awake. She was sitting on the floor, back rested against the hard wall, holding Jemma in her arms. The girl sniffled tearfully, her body still shaking with small sobs even though she was sleeping as well. Coulson was at the top of the stairs, listening to the the wind damaging their house. Eventually he gave up on listening to the howling wind. He sat on the floor, draped a blanket over his wife's and daughter's legs and put his arm around May, pulling her closer to his chest. She leant in, her eyes closing slowly.<p>

"I'm sorry," he whispered, causing her eyes to open, "I was really worried to find out that you went out there all alone."

"It's alright," she assured, "I'd react the same way if you did something like that."

"It just… it scares me, you know?" Coulson accommodated, resting his chin over May's head, "We put our lives on the line every day at work, and yet, this petty wind is what's keeping me worried."

"I know. It's the thought of dying at home, not in the line of duty… it's strange." May casted a glance at their sleeping children, "And to think I once wanted to walk away."

* * *

><p><em>"I swear to God, Phil, I can't do this." May yelled, rocking Jemma in her arms, "She doesn't shut up."<em>

_"To be honest I would cry too if you were holding me like that."_

_"Oh yeah?" she walked in quick strides to him and put the baby in his arms, "then do better. I'm done with this."_

_"Wa – wait! What do you mean you're done with this?"_

_"I'm done with all of it. We've had this child for two months now. Fury assured us it'd be temporary. And besides it's not like she shuts up with me," she shouted, trying her best not to cry as she looked at the baby in Coulson's arms, who was being slightly more quiet._

_"May!" he called as she stormed to their bedroom and started sorting through her clothes in the closet. "Melinda, please. What are you doing?"_

_She glanced back and stretched her arms. She'd give it a try one last time, "Give her to me. Give her to me, Phil," she insisted as Coulson seemed to be frozen by the door of the bedroom. "She cries again and I'm out that door."_

_Coulson swallowed dryly, walking with careful steps to her. He gently transferred the baby to his wife's arms, adjusting her arms to cuddle the girl better in her embrace._

_Jemma stirred and whimpered, "Shh, it's okay. It's okay," he reinforced, looking into May's eyes._

_"It's alright," Jemma hushed as May stroked her hair._

_"You can't put her to sleep. I can't feed her properly. We're not supposed to be gifted with every quality in the world. That's why it takes two people to have children."_

_"I'll put her in the crib," May mumbled quietly, walking out of the bedroom._

_She delayed in returning to their bedroom, but Coulson let her take her time to think. May returned long minutes later; Coulson was already lying down in bed, almost asleep. He moved in the bed when he felt her presence in the room and heard her picking up her clothes. She was putting them back in the closet. He smiled, relieved, until he saw her with her hands on her hips, head thrown back, carefully exhaling through her mouth. She acted quickly in wiping away the tears that rushed down her face._

_"It's alright, Mel," he said, getting out of bed quickly, pulling her into a hug._

_"I didn't mean it. I wouldn't leave."_

_"I know," he ran his hand through her hair, "I know. You know what do you need? Some sleep. You're tired and stressed."_

_May grabbed his hand and pulled him to bed with her. She fell asleep with his arms wrapped around her._

* * *

><p>"You never told me what made you stay."<p>

"You," May looked into her husband's eyes, "I stayed for you, our marriage, this family that we built. I'm sorry."

"Don't be," he said. She seemed ready to repeat the apology again, so he rushed to tell her, "You - we both apologized to each other in that night, seven years ago. In all these years we've never went to bed without making up."

"I was selfish," she insisted, "and you had nothing to be blamed for."

"It's alright. I was scared too. We had just been married and already had a child in our arms. We were what, late twenty years old? What did we really know about anything back then?"

"It takes two people to have children," she whispered, "I'm glad we've learned that."

* * *

><p><strong>Next chapter is one of my favorites. It has many references to people and situations in the MCU. And Trip finally gets a friend that is about his age. His name is S** W*****. Let's see if someone can crack Trip's friend's name before reading the chapter.<strong>


End file.
